Gotten
by anxioussquirrel
Summary: Kurt and Blaine never got together. They remained best friends through high school and college, then parted ways. Now they meet again in difficult circumstances. A story about friendship, lost dreams and broken hearts, with a happy Klaine ending.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:** This is a story about friendship, lost dreams and broken hearts, based on a song - _Gotten_ by Slash. Go listen to it, it's beautiful. It's AU, because Kurt and Blaine never got together in high school, but remained best friends. It's a future fic, they are both 25 here (yes, in my head they ARE the same age). It's angsty and fluffy, and smutty too. The rating is for language and graphic sex – yes, there will be sex later on, like whoa! And I promise you a happy ending.

And to those of you who don't read WIP – this story is already completely written in 11 chapters and I'll be uploading new ones every 1-2 days, so read along :)

Have fun reading and please leave me a comment – I always love to hear what you think.

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 1<strong>

_So nice to see your face again_

_Tell me how long has it been_

_Since you've been here_

There are days when I hate my job more than usual. Today is one of these days. Working with VIP customers may be profitable, but god, they can be such a pain in the ass sometimes, treating you like they own you just because of the numbers on their accounts. Add to it a boss who denies you leave for that particular week when there's a festival you've been waiting for all year. Mix in the busty blonde from Business Accounts who refuses to believe you're not interested and almost throws herself at you in her ridiculously low-cut top, whispering throatily that she has everything you need. Sure, you could ask her if she has a dick – but _I_ happen to like my privacy. After all that, long hours of overtime just because your coworker's poodle went into labor may just be the last straw. Thank god it's Friday.

I hate my job. I hate it all the time, today it's just particularly bad. I keep dreaming I will leave it one day and never come back, and I will. One beautiful day when I'll be able to earn more than tips with my music. Or when I turn thirty, in five years, and my trust fund finally unlocks fully. Until then, I have to stick with banking.

Why do I do this if I hate it so much? Well, it's the most logical thing to do when you have a degree in Finance. Minors in Music and Performance Arts don't change much, even if you love music more than anything. You say I could've majored in it then? Not if I wanted my parents to support me at all. So now I have my own apartment in New York – a graduation gift, with no student loans and a small sum of money from the trust fund every month. Enough to live without counting every penny, but too little to leave the stable job. And here I am, financially comfortable, but completely unhappy with where I am in life otherwise. Music is my only savior. I play and sing, I write songs. There's always something playing in the background at home. I attend more concerts, Broadway and off-Broadway shows than anyone considers normal. Sometimes I play and sing in cafes. These are my happy moments. You could say I live for these.

* * *

><p>It's almost nine when I turn into my quiet street tonight, leaving fresh footprints in the snow. On any other day snowflakes dancing in warm yellow light of the old-fashioned streetlights would probably make me smile, but not today. I'm cold, tired and hungry.<p>

There's someone sitting on the snow-covered steps leading to my building, hunched over against the cold. Probably just another homeless soul, a reminder that my life isn't that bad after all. Judging by the amount of snow on his black coat, he must have sat here for hours. He must be freezing, poor guy. I'm just a few feet from him, ready to call out, get his attention, wake him up if necessary, to tell him of a shelter two blocks from here and maybe give him a twenty, when I stop, my eyes on a huge suitcase standing by his feet. I _know_ this suitcase. I was there when it was bought, before going off for college. Then I saw it a week later, already decorated with silly little fashion-related doodles all over the top edge, to make it stick out in the airport. There's no other like this, it's absolutely unique. And it belongs to my best friend. Or maybe ex-best friend? Can best friends ever really become ex? Wouldn't it counter their status as best friends? Not that I would really consider him ex-friend, no matter what. If anything, it's him who might think that of me – he kicked me out of his life over two years ago, saying he didn't want to see me ever again.

Kurt Hummel. I've known him since junior year of high school. We bonded over music and the joys of gay life in small-town Ohio. I tried to be a kind of mentor to him for a while, a gay Yoda as he called it jokingly years later, but when I realized he didn't really need this, I gave it up and we became friends instead. We went to the same school for a while, and when he transferred back, we were already important enough for each other to stay in close contact anyway. When it turned out a year later that we were both admitted to NYU, it was a dream come true. We managed to get a dorm together and for the next three years we were virtually joined at the hip. Well, apart from classes – he majored in Arts and Fashion, being a real prodigy in fashion design. But other than that, we were always together – either in our room or out meeting other people, shopping, attending concerts and plays. We were constantly singing, solo or in a duet. We understood each other without words. People always asked if we were a couple and didn't believe us when we said we weren't. We were each other's everything. Except lovers. Never that.

We were perfect together. Those were the happiest years of my life.

And then Kurt met _him_. Marcus. A slick, slimy fashion designer who insinuated himself into his life and ruined everything. Kurt fell for him, head over heels. I've never seen anyone fall so fast and so hard. I hadn't understood the term _madly in love_ before I saw this. Within a month Kurt moved in with this guy, into his penthouse apartment. Within two he left the internship that he got in one of the big fashion houses as the most promising fashion student of his year, and started to _learn in practice, _at his boyfriend's company. Two weeks later he quit college to be able to travel to fashion capitols with Marcus and spend more time at the company. He never finished his last year. I hated that. I hated Marcus with all my heart. I tried not to show it too much, seeing how in love Kurt was, but sometimes I slipped. After one of those times, two years later, Kurt said it was enough, he didn't want me in his life anymore. So I went. I was the last one of all his friends and family that still stuck by him then – he'd driven them away one by one since his move. I don't know what happened to him – to them – after that, and there was no one left that I could ask. I tried keeping in touch anyway, calling every now and then, sending texts or emails, just to remind him I'm here if he wanted to stay friends after all. But apparently he didn't, because he never answered.

And now here he is. Sitting on my doorstep, in the snow, with his huge suitcase.

I drop to my knees in front of him, bag forgotten on the ground, and touch his shoulders.

"Kurt!" _Please be okay, please be okay…_

He jumps as if electrocuted, lifts his head from where it lies on his knees. The light of the lamp overhead hits his eyes, that ever changing stormy sea of green-blue-grey that I've always loved, and he whispers, "Blaine. You're here."

Relief cascades through me, whooshing down from my chest.

"What are you doing here? How long have you been sitting on these steps? It's freezing, for god's sake, why didn't you call?"

"I came here around six. I didn't even know if you still live here, there was no one home. I would have called, but I don't have my phone and I don't know your number by heart. I just hoped you would appear or I don't know what I'd do…"

"But what happened?" I don't understand, he should be home, somewhere warm, somewhere safe.

"I need a place to sleep, just for two, three nights. I know that you have every right to say no after what I did, but I hoped… You are the only one who could still help me."

"Kurt, of course, stay however long you want to, but what's wrong? What about Marcus?"

"He's moving to Paris. He kicked me out. Said he didn't want me anymore."

I embrace my best friend, there in the snow, hug him tight. Then I get up, grab my bag and his suitcase.

"Come in. You must be frozen stiff. I'll run you a bath."

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter:<strong>

_You look so different than before_

_You're still the person I adore_

_Frozen with fear_


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

_You look so different than before_

_You're still the person I adore_

_Frozen with fear_

With the hot water running to fill the big tub, I quickly make tea, add sugar and lemon, put it on the table just as Kurt enters the kitchen. He's out of his coat and boots, and I have the first chance to really look at him. He's changed since I last saw him. He's always been slim, but now he looks almost too thin; his cheekbones are more pronounced, they make his face somehow older, more serious. He's let his hair grow long, almost long enough for a ponytail, and it's tousled and unstyled now, which is a first – he used to say that he spent more money on hair products than food in college, and I'm pretty sure it was true. He's unshaven and the scruffy beard looks weird on him.

But it's the clothes that shock me most. Kurt had always been a creature of fashion. He loved labels, designers, his outfits always thoughtfully picked, original and amazing, perfectly fitted for his lean form. Skintight jeans used to be the signature element of his style – and no wonder, with legs like his it would be a sin to hide them. Now, he stands in my kitchen in loose khaki cargo pants and a shapeless black turtleneck sweater. It's like somewhere during these two years the Kurt I've known since I was sixteen has vanished, replaced by someone completely different.

Different, yet so very familiar. The straight, elegant posture, those beautiful eyes, this face, so wonderfully expressive – they're all _my Kurt_. I've missed him so much, I realize with a painful squeeze in my chest. I haven't really had a friend since he cut me out of his life. Nobody could ever replace him. It's one of the reasons I've felt so lonely these last years.

Kurt sits at the table, weary, silent, warming his hands on the mug of tea.

"Have you eaten?"

"Not since yesterday."

_Yesterday_? I grab whole wheat bread, cheese, tomato, make a simple sandwich, then set the plate in front of him.

"We'll have late dinner once you've warmed up after the bath, but you have to eat something now. The tub should be ready in five minutes."

"Thank you. You really don't have to go to all this trouble for me, you know."

"Are you kidding? I finally get to see you after over two years and you don't want me to pamper you a little? Forget it!" Kurt almost smiles. _Almost_, but not quite.

* * *

><p>Once Kurt's in the bathroom, I dig through my freezer. I'm a domestic kind of man. Sure, I love concerts and theatre and people, but at the end of the day I want a cozy home with a sunny kitchen, talking and laughter, music and family. Quiet evenings with a book. Saturdays sleeping in and cuddling in bed till noon. Cooking for someone other than myself. I like cooking, it's relaxing and I'm good at it. But when I come from work dead tired, I just want to eat something quickly, so I cook on weekends and freeze things. My freezer is full of homemade dinners. I find a chicken and potato casserole now, just big enough for two – it will be perfect for a cold winter night like this one. I put it in the oven, toss a quick salad and go to check on Kurt, knocking softly on the bathroom door.<p>

"Hey, do you want something to drink? Water? Wine? Something stronger?"

His voice is muffled through the door. "No, thanks. And I'm not falling asleep, don't worry."

I laugh. He knows me too well, my little phobias. I go to prepare the guest room for him, take his suitcase there, make the bed and leave a bottle of water on the bedside table. He always wakes up thirsty in the middle of the night. See, I know him too.

When the casserole is almost ready, I knock on the bathroom door again.

"Dinner's in five."

"Thanks, I'll be right there."

* * *

><p>When Kurt enters the kitchen, his face is flushed pink from heat and he smells of eucalyptus. All these years and it's the first time ever I've seen him in sweats.<p>

"That was just what I needed. I haven't taken a bubble bath in forever. You are _so_ lucky to have a tub!"

"Yeah, I know. Let's hope you don't get pneumonia after all those hours sitting out in the cold."

We eat in silence for a while, both hungry and tired. Then Kurt remembers something.

"Won't Danny mind that I'm here?"

"No, don't worry." It's not _really_ a lie. He won't; he stopped minding anything about me a while ago. And he'd be okay with Kurt even if he still lived here. "You can stay as long as you need, don't hurry so much with looking for a new place. You won't be able to find anything good in two or three days, let alone have time to move in. And they'll rip you off if they see you're in a hurry."

Kurt is shaking his head. The look on his face… I can't really decipher it. I don't think I've seen it before.

"Blaine, I'm not looking for an apartment. I just need a couple of days to process all of this and get myself together before I call my family and beg them to forgive me, take me back and pay for my ticket. I'm going back to Lima, to live with dad and Carole, if they let me. At least for now. I could work at the garage, maybe in time I'd be able to move out, find a place on my own there."

I can't believe my ears. All Kurt ever wanted was to escape Lima; its small-town mentality, the lack of opportunities, the homophobia… and he did. He fought hard for it and succeeded. And he only really started to shine in New York. He's always been amazing, but in the city he opened up like a rare flower, dazzling in his multi-hued complexity. I can't believe he wants to go back now.

"But… why?"

"I don't have much choice." He looks up at me and suddenly I recognize the expression. It's _defeat_. "I have no money. Literally. I spent the rest of what I had to get here. Hell, I don't even have a phone. Everything I own is in that suitcase, and it's mostly clothes. I don't have a job, I never finished my education, I have no experience; at least nowhere that I could use for references. I have nothing, Blaine. Going back home is the only thing I can do."

I realize my mouth hangs open unattractively, so I snap it close. It's too much to take in all at once.

"But… what about Marcus? You worked with him, you're amazing at this stuff, I thought you would at least have your own line by now!"

"Apparently I'm not as great as I thought. It never really went beyond internship, and even that wasn't official. Mostly I just hung in there, looked at others' work. They never let me actually design anything. It wasn't good enough."

_Bullshit_. Everyone could see Kurt had a bright future in fashion. His projects won contests and were included in shows ever since he was a sophomore. He was considered a rising star. And now he believes he's not good enough? What did this bastard do to him?

"And they didn't pay you?"

"No." He laughs bitterly, the sound all wrong, like a nail on glass. "Marcus didn't want me to work anywhere else, so I was always either with him or at home. He paid for everything. I was basically a kept man. That's why I don't have my phone, my laptop, anything. He didn't let me take them. Mostly, I just took what I owned before I moved in with him, plus some non-designer clothes that fit me better now." He shakes his head like he doesn't believe it himself. "He just… woke me up this morning and told me to pack and get out of there, said he was done with me, just like that."

I'd always hated Kurt's boyfriend, but this… it's unbelievable. I don't really know what to say. And I can see Kurt doesn't want to talk now anyway. I can still read him without words. He just wants to be alone now, but is trying not to be rude. I put my hand on his.

"Kurt, whatever you need, just tell me. I'll help you any way you let me. I'm here, okay? And you're my best friend, no matter what, so don't hesitate to ask for anything. Your room is ready if you want to go lay down. Or if you prefer, we can drink all night, I have more than enough liquor. Or we can go out if you really want to. Just… whatever you need."

He tries to smile, fails epically, squeezing my hand instead.

"Thank you. I'll just go to sleep if you don't mind, okay? I don't think it's really hit me yet. We'll talk tomorrow?"

"Sure. Goodnight. You know where to find me if you need anything."

* * *

><p>Later that night I lie in bed, perfectly aware that my best friend in the whole world is right on the other side of the thin wall, probably curled into a tight ball, almost certainly awake, either still stunned and numb or already onto the next stage, crying. I yearn to go, hug him, help him, but I know it's too early. He wouldn't let me. He does that – withdraws deep into his shell at first and has to be alone. He'll need me tomorrow and I'll be there. But knowing this doesn't make it easier to fall asleep.<p>

I feel my blood pressure spike when I think about what Marcus did. I'd always known he wasn't the right man for my friend, but this? This is beyond anything I could have believed possible. How could he do this to Kurt? Kurt, who was always _so_ easy to love. I know that. I've been there. And I don't mean just as a friend. I was in love with Kurt once – I had a crush on him from the moment I met him; the longer I knew him, the further it went. I know he felt something for me too, back in high school. We never did anything about those feelings though. We missed our moment somehow. First I was in a mentor mode and it didn't seem appropriate, then he moved back to his old school and it was too complicated.

And in college… Well, in college we basically lived together like boyfriends. No, forget boyfriends, almost like husbands – just without the sexual element. Though it _was_ there. It was always there, the sexual tension, the spark, a chemistry between us. Neither of us ever dated; we didn't really need it. We had each other. Many times we would fall asleep on the same bed and wake up in a tangle of limbs, lips inches from each other. It would have been so easy to close the distance and see where it would lead us – I know we both thought about it. But we never risked it. Because if we fucked up, we'd destroy each other. We'd have no one else to turn to for comfort. We'd lose not only love, but friendship as well.

But as I think about what Marcus did to this boy I used to be in love with, I keep wondering if we didn't make a mistake, all those years ago, when we were both young and innocent, inexperienced and unharmed.

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><p><strong>In the next chapter:<strong>

_All out of love but I take it from the past_

_All out of words cause I'm sure it'll never last_


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

_All out of love but I take it from the past_

_All out of words cause I'm sure it'll never last_

Sleep doesn't come until early morning hours, so I lie awake and think. Remember. Reflect. I go through those last four years in my head, over and over again, as if looking for a breaking point, a flaw, a place where we went wrong so that we both ended up here. Shattered, fucked up, unwanted. I can't find it.

It was August after our junior year when Kurt met Marcus. The damn charmer went up to him one day in our favorite café and started a conversation. Once they were on the subject of fashion, he had Kurt where he wanted him. Marcus told him who he was, showed him a couple of things he was working on that he _just happened_ to have on him, dropped in a compliment or two and my boy was hooked. I've always thought it was suspicious that he _coincidently _found Kurt just as he had a chance to bloom with a serious competition. It was too convenient.

It certainly helped that Marcus was easy on the eyes, six years older and oh so experienced and worldly. It took all of one date and Kurt was putty in his hands. He was starstruck, and so in love he was glowing. When Marcus told him he loved him, there was no turning back. Kurt was lost to the world. And to me. We spent less and less time with each other, until he moved out altogether. We still met sometimes, but it just wasn't the same – what is an hour in a café every other week when you're used to being together almost 24/7?

Suddenly my life was empty. I had way too much time and no one to talk to. I really realized then just how much Kurt meant to me. How big a part of my life he was. When he went away, he left behind all this empty space that I didn't know what to do with. I tried. I decided maybe it was time to finally start dating – I was a single gay guy after all, in a city where it wasn't a death sentence. It turned out I was actually considered attractive and once it leaked out I was on the market, so to speak, I had no trouble finding dates. I went out with several guys, but after what I had with Kurt, I couldn't really find a common ground with any of them. It was just so tedious, all these mechanics of getting to know each other, weighing reactions, interpreting words and behaviors. Like trying to learn a new language every time, when I already knew one perfectly. Maybe I never really wanted anyone else. I may have been pining after Kurt, I admit. Anyway, by New Years I gave up trying to find a boyfriend. In January, he actually found me.

* * *

><p>I met Danny at an open mic night in a campus club. I decided to sing there for the first time, to get some feedback on a few songs I wrote, so I turned up with my guitar. The reactions were quite enthusiastic and when I went back to my table, a cute guy with striking blue eyes came up to me. He was a year younger, majoring in English. We hit it off immediately. He just got me, almost as well as Kurt did. We had similar sense of humor, liked many of the same movies and singers, and had some similar experiences. It was enough to spark <em>something<em>.

We spent half the night talking and decided we liked each other. He walked me to my dorm. One goodnight kiss led to another, then there were dates and fireworks and fun, chemistry and hormones, suppressed for so long around Kurt. Danny was my first. He had more experience, having grown up here in New York, where dating is easier for gay kids. He was gentle, patient and enthusiastic, everything I could dream of in a first lover. He taught me everything, step by step, orgasm by orgasm. It was mindblowing. I was in love.

It wasn't all about the sex, of course. Danny was a gentleman, a romantic and a poet. He surprised me daily with little tokens of affection, silly little rhymes that I found in my pockets and my textbooks. There were long walks in the moonlight, romantic dates, picnics, words that made my heart race. Phone calls in the middle of the night just to say _I love you_. Real love letters, sent by mail. Dancing in the rain, in the empty parking lot to the music in our heads. He was everything I dreamed about when I thought of a boyfriend, and more.

Once I graduated, my parents bought me the apartment and soon after, I asked Danny to move in with me. He didn't hesitate, and our relationship got even better. We fit together, easy and comfortable, without initial tensions and problems everyone warned us about. Our sex life was fantastic and varied, we were both open to experiments within reasonable limits, and by our first anniversary I was able to say that I knew what I liked and how, and was quite well versed in the language of bodily pleasures.

I was determined to finish my post-graduate studies in two years instead of the customary three, and as always when I was motivated, I managed to do so. The end of my last year was approaching and inevitably, I began thinking about my future. And along with jobs and career paths and ways to smuggle as much music in as possible, I still found time to dream about weddings and married life, and – further down the road – children, a dog, a house in the suburbs. Family. These were still just dreams, but my heart was there. I was deeply in love and more and more, I allowed myself to imagine my future with Danny. Kurt approved of him, which was important to me, and my family accepted him as much as I could hope for. I was happy with him.

Until he broke my heart.

* * *

><p>I used to believe that love can vanquish anything – time, distance, any kind of trouble. I believed that <em>I love you<em> meant _forever_. I thought that if you love someone, you never, ever want to hurt them. I was wrong.

I don't believe in love anymore. It's just a trick of chemicals in our brains. A temporary mental illness of sorts. It's not real. It's just a way to get hurt. Really, really hurt. Sure, I'm grateful for what I learned with Danny. Sure, I have a lot of happy memories connected with him. But when I try to decide if it was worth the pain of heartbreak, the shattered dreams and hopes, the tasteless, numb months afterwards – I'm not sure.

I don't date anymore. I hook up sometimes, when the need to connect to someone even for a brief moment becomes too strong to resist. I have one-night stands, safe sex in anonymous hotel rooms. Nothing more. Never anything more. I don't believe in love.

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter:<strong>

_I've been saving these last words for one last miracle_

_But now I'm not sure_

_I can't save you if you don't let me_

_You just get me like I've never been gotten before_


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

_I've been saving these last words for one last miracle_

_But now I'm not sure_

_I can't save you if you don't let me_

_You just get me like I've never been gotten before_

We meet in the kitchen way too early on Saturday morning, both looking like we had no sleep at all. I can see Kurt's been crying, even though he's very good at hiding the evidence with his creams and concealers. He must have already done his morning beauty rituals, because unless you knew better, you wouldn't notice anything was wrong. But I do. I know him well enough to see the bare hint of puffiness around his eyes, the sad line of his lips, brows furrowed a little too much. I set a cup of latte in front of him without a word and return to the pancakes I'm making. There's an assortment of fruit already on the table. We eat in silence. That's another thing we had in common and it's nice to see that nothing has changed. Neither of us is too sociable before the first cup of coffee, so we just don't talk first thing in the morning, don't get in the other's way. Sure enough, he speaks only as I gather the dishes to put it in the sink.

"You look like you didn't get much sleep."

"I was worried about you."

"Unnecessarily. I'm fine."

"No you're not."

"No I'm not. I forgot who I'm talking to."

"Seriously though, how are you holding up?"

"Barely. It's just so sudden, you know? One minute I have an organized, predictable life, even if it's a little boring and monotonous, and the next I'm single, homeless, I don't have a job or a penny to my name. But… is it weird that I find it more bearable because I'm here? At least I know you won't judge me. As soon as I get home… It will be a lot worse there."

"Yeah, about that. Are you sure you want to go back?"

"No, I'm sure I _don't_ want to go back. But I'm just as sure that I don't have any other choice, Blaine."

"Maybe I could lend you some money and…"

"No. Definitely not. Right now I have no perspectives, I don't know when I will have any money at all. I don't want to add debts to my situation. It's bad enough without it."

"Have you thought about finding a job here? I just… I'm sorry, but I think returning to Lima is the worst thing you could do for yourself right now."

"Blaine, I know that. The thought of going back there is killing me. But look, I have no qualifications whatsoever, no experience…"

"That's not true. What about that mechanics certificate you got when you were 16? With that and all the years helping your dad in the garage you're certainly qualified enough. It would be something at least, for a while."

"Well, yeah, but I'm sure it's not that easy to find a job as a mechanic here, and I'd need something fast."

"So anything for starters, until you find something better. In a shop, or a café even."

"You forget one thing. I have nowhere to live, and even if I survived until the first paycheck, this is New York. I won't be able to rent an apartment, let alone buy food working in a café. And I'm not sure if living in some terrible motel…"

"You can live with me."

"Blaine, thank you, it's really sweet, the way you try to help me, but you know that would be a disastrous idea. A couple of days may be fine, but if I stayed longer, it would only cause problems between you and Danny."

Right. It may be the time to tell him – I can't avoid the topic forever.

"It won't. Danny doesn't live here anymore, Kurt. I'm single."

His eyes widen. "What?"

"We broke up over a year ago – almost a year and a half actually. So you can stop worrying and stay with me until you get back on your feet. Once you find a decent job, we can share bills and food expenses, but for now just stay as my guest, okay? I really don't want you to return to Ohio. Your place is here in New York."

"Wait, wait, don't change the topic. What do you mean, you broke up? You were the best matched couple I knew!"

_Sigh_. Here comes the Spanish inquisition.

"Yeah, well. It happens."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! How are you?"

"I'm fine. It was a long time ago." I shrug. Kurt looks at me with narrowed eyes for a long while, then shakes his head. Damn, I thought that was convincing.

"He broke your heart, didn't he?"

"Kurt, I'm _fine_."

"Blaine Anderson! I _know_ you, remember? _Fine_ and _we broke up _may have been enough for everybody else, but I can see you're still _hurting_. And if you still hurt after a year and a half, it must have been one hell of a breakup."

I stay silent. He's right, of course, on every point. It was hell, it still hurts. And everyone else, including my parents, just believed me when I said I was fine. But this is Kurt; he won't let me off the hook that easily.

Which he proves right away.

"Okay, I'm all ears. What happened?" This is Kurt in his interrogation mode: fully focused, shoulders squared, hands folded on the table. I know there's no way around having this conversation now, which doesn't mean I don't try to avoid it anyway.

"Will it help if I say I don't want to talk about it?"

"_Have_ you talked about it to anyone?"

"No."

"Then no, it won't help. Spill."

I _really_ don't want to talk about this, but maybe it is time. Maybe sharing it will somehow lighten the weight of these memories, pressing heavily on my heart for so long.

"Fine, fine. Will you at least let me get a drink first?"

"It's eight in the morning!"

"Too bad. I need alcohol if I'm to talk about it."

"Okay. Pour me a shot too."

I get whiskey out of the fridge, pour generously. We take it to the couch. I draw a shaky breath, and another, then I drink half of my whiskey in one gulp. I can't quite decide on where to start. Kurt notices.

"Come on. The last time we talked, you two were living here, happy as can be. Honeymoon phase in full bloom. What changed?"

I cringe at his choice of words, but oblige.

"Nothing changed. We were together, we were happy. Things were great. I managed to squeeze three years of studies into two, got my MA in June. Then… Two weeks later I proposed."

"You _what_? Oh my god, it's huge! Oh no, I'm sorry, there's no happy ending. But still, you _proposed_! It's so… so adult! Okay, okay, I'm calming down. What did you do?"

"It was Danny's birthday. I was playing a gig at the club where we met that night. He was there, we were supposed to go to dinner later. At the end of my performance, I dedicated the last song to my boyfriend. And I sang _Marry Me_. You know, by Train."

Kurt can't contain his excitement and flails a little. "Aaaaaaand?"

"He freaked out, ran out of the club in the middle of the song. I thought I'd die of embarrassment, but I sang to the end before I left. The club was full that evening and everyone was looking at me with pity. It was _terrible_."

Kurt looks at me with compassion. "I bet. You must have been happy you didn't study there anymore."

"I was. But then it got worse. Danny was nowhere to be seen and didn't pick up his phone, so I went home, to wait for him. He was here, pacing the room, looking guilty. We sat and talked."

My glass is empty, so I pour myself more. Now comes the hard part.

"He said he didn't know I took this, us, so seriously. That he wasn't ready for commitment, not then and not… not with me. He wanted to travel after graduation, have fun, not settle down. Our relationship was great, he said, but for him it was temporary, a student romance. Sure, he loved being with me, but… no, I was not the love of his life." I have tears on my face and it feels strange. They've been waiting too long to be spilt. I've never let myself cry after Danny left.

Kurt takes my hand and moves closer on the couch.

"I'm so sorry… But had you never talked about the future before?"

"I had. About family and children…"

"… two, a boy and a girl, adopted, not biological, because there are enough children who need good homes…" I smile sadly. He knows me so well.

"Exactly. But I guess I never actually said that I wanted it all with Danny. It was obvious to me."

"Well, it should have been obvious to him, too. Didn't he know you at all?" Kurt shakes his head incredulously.

"Maybe he didn't want to know this side of me. And when I thought about it later, I realized he didn't seem all that interested whenever I spoke about it, he never even commented. We just wanted two completely different things and didn't realize it."

"But the guy loved you!"

"I don't know… He always said he did, but evidently for him it meant something else than for me. His love had limits, you know? Something like _I love you until I graduate and go look for someone better_. Mine was supposed to be forever. It shook me pretty bad. He slept on the couch that night and moved out the next day. I never saw him again."

"Bastard. He didn't deserve you."

I just laugh bitterly. "Right."

"And you haven't had another relationship since then?"

"I don't do relationships anymore. I guess I don't believe they work."

"Yeah, there's two of us now." Kurt finishes his whiskey. I lean closer and lay my head on his shoulder. We sit in silence for a while before he speaks, regret in his voice. "I've been a shitty friend, haven't I? You needed me and I never even answered any of your texts."

"You didn't know."

"Still, I want to kick myself right now. I'm sorry, Blaine. I'm sorry for being a self-absorbed ass. Can I make it up to you somehow?"

"Stay here?"

He turns his head to look me in the eyes, just inches away.

"Are you sure you wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not. I'd be happy to have you back in my life. It would be like college again, only with more room and our own kitchen. And no problems getting alcohol."

Kurt snorts an almost-laughter.

"You had me at alcohol. No, I'm kidding. I'd love to stay. Thank you, Blaine, you have no idea how much it means to me." His arm slides around my shoulders, pulls me closer.

We sit like this for a while, and I feel something within me settle, relax, something I hadn't realized was restless for so long.

My best friend is back in my life.

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter:<strong>

_Maybe it's a bitter wind_

_That chilled from the pacific rim_

_That brought you this way_


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

_Maybe it's a bitter wind_

_That chilled from the pacific rim_

_That brought you this way_

Naturally, Kurt's decision to stay doesn't solve all his problems. But it's a start and it's definitely much better than Lima, Ohio. His first priority now is to find a job – any job will work to start with. After I nag him long enough, he agrees to borrow a little money from me, for his basic needs – just until he gets his first paycheck, he insists. We also get a phone for him and on Monday he starts job searching. On Thursday evening I come from work to find Kurt not quite smiling – I haven't seen him smile yet since he came here – but radiating satisfaction. He's got a job at a café just around the corner. It's not much, but it's a step forward and now he can take his time looking for something better, maybe in one of the garages. We celebrate with wine after dinner and then, as days go by, settle into new routines.

Living with Kurt is just as easy as it used to be in the dorm. We still fit, still get each other without words. We know when to talk and when to leave the other in peace. No matter if we spend time together or busy ourselves with separate things in the same room, we feel comfortable and don't crowd each other's space. We take our turns shopping and cooking; it's good to have him here. I don't feel so desperate for human contact anymore now that I have Kurt to talk to every day. Even work has became more bearable, although it may have something to do with the blonde from Business Accounts finally finding another victim.

As weeks pass, I begin to see changes in Kurt as well. He gets rid of the scruffy beard and decides to go back to his old haircut. He gains a bit of weight back and elements of his old wardrobe slowly find their way back to his everyday outfits. It's not as extravagant and flamboyant as it used to be, not yet, but it's definitely more _him_. It feels like he's slowly finding himself under layers and layers of foreign influence.

And I have no doubts whose influence it was.

I said before that I hated Marcus, that I didn't think he was the right guy for Kurt. I'd seen them together; I heard the way they talked. I had noticed changes in my best friend – small, insignificant things at first that accumulated in time, but the process was so slow and gradual that I don't think Kurt himself noticed it. Only someone who observed from the sidelines and knew him as well as I did could see that as anything more than natural development of his style, preferences and behavior.

Well, Kurt's family also saw it, once he visited after months of absence, bringing his boyfriend with him. They hated Marcus too. I think they tried not to at first, but when they learned about Kurt's leaving college and the promising internship, saw the way he acted around Marcus and changes in his behavior and attitude, they gave up trying to accept it. Assurances about their love and Kurt's prospects in his boyfriend's company didn't change that one bit. Mr. Hummel told his son straight away, as tactfully as he could, that there was something not quite right about this relationship. But what could they do? After countless fights at home and over the phone, Kurt just stopped talking to them entirely. I know for a fact that he hasn't seen his family or contacted them in over three years. Most of his friends even longer. And it's all Marcus' fault.

See, I've said that the guy was slick and slimy. He was also controlling. Dominating, but in a way that wasn't obvious unless you looked carefully. And I did. And when I say that Kurt was putty in his hands, I mean it. He was in love, but that in itself wouldn't be enough to turn my independent, critically thinking friend into a puppet. No, that required subtle manipulation. And I've believed since I first saw them together that Marcus was a manipulative son of a bitch.

Countless times I witnessed Kurt enthusiastic about something his boyfriend wasn't crazy about, only to change his mind a couple of days later, seemingly of his own volition. I saw him give up his favorite music and movies to gravitate towards the sort of heavier stuff that Marcus preferred – he called it _acquiring mature tastes_. No more Disney and musicals for him. I watched as he alienated friends one by one; people he loved, until he had no one but Marcus and me. And then he pushed me away too.

But before he did, I had plenty of time to witness how Marcus called him _princess_ and _my lovely lady_, even in public. How he just pulled Kurt away in the middle of conversation, when he was having fun, because he wanted to leave, _now, Kurt! _Twice I saw bruises on Kurt's arms, but he swore it was from sex – _things got a little intense, you know_? He promised that Marcus would never hit him. I could tell he wasn't lying and yes, he always bruised easily, so I let it go, but I didn't like it. He slept at my place many times, having run after fights they'd had. He never did that before, never ran from trouble or fights; he learned it in this relationship. Marcus would always appear in the morning, with flowers and tears in his eyes. Kurt forgave him and they went home, a happy couple. I could see how fake it was, but what could I do? Nothing really.

Not that I didn't try. Oh, how I tried. Subtly, not so subtly, bluntly; begging, pleading and explaining. I tried to open Kurt's eyes to the fact that there was something wrong there, that it shouldn't be like this, that his needs should count just as much as his boyfriend's. It didn't work. And this was what ultimately lead to him throwing me out of his life. It turns out there are only so many times you can criticize someone's boyfriend before they lose patience; especially if said boyfriend doesn't like you. I had to learn the hard way, doing it once too much. I've blamed myself ever since. I've told myself that I exaggerated, that maybe I was jealous of Kurt's time and attention and saw things that weren't there, that maybe I was overbearing and controlling myself.

But honestly, I don't think that was the case. Even overlooking the way Marcus finished their relationship, I can see what those years did to Kurt – I notice it every day now that he lives here with me. Even after over a month he still has a hard time dealing with the way his life turned out. He seems to be having trouble moving on – his search for a better job has paused, he just courses between the café and the apartment, always quiet, sad, defeated. But that's normal, I know how much it takes to get back on your feet after a bad break-up, and he has it worse than I did.

What this whole relationship did to him though, not just the break-up, is worse: it took away all his self-confidence. The way he speaks about himself, his abilities, talents, you'd think that he was nothing. Worthless. That's how he sees himself now – that fierce, amazing man who took the world by storm, won contests and competitions, sang like an angel, was called a fashion prodigy – that man is gone. He thinks he'll never get anywhere. He's convinced that he's unable to make the right decisions – any kind of decisions. That others know better. He looks in the mirror and doesn't see the gorgeous man there is, but a collection of flaws.

He doesn't say it _all_ out loud, but I can see. I gather what little he says and what he leaves unsaid, I see the looks and expressions, thoughts written all over his face, and I understand. And I desperately want to help him, this boy who never smiles anymore, who stopped singing because Marcus didn't like it, this man whom I had to remind for over a week that he doesn't need to ask permission to do anything in the kitchen, watch TV, take a shower, anything. This guy who cowered when a plate slipped out of his hand and shattered, as if afraid I would yell at him. My best friend, independent to a fault once. There's so much to untangle there, so much to stroke into calm, smooth into sense of safety… I want to help, yet I don't know how. I'm here for him. We talk, we go out together sometimes, we listen to music, watch movies that we both liked years ago, and Kurt still loves them after all.

We're back to being best friends, things are comfortable and easy between us, like we slipped back into a well-known routine, but there's a wall there that Kurt keeps guarded. He doesn't talk about Marcus, shares nothing about their years together. He bottles it all up. And he still defends him, like a demigod on a golden pedestal. Even after all this.

I just hope that time and Kurt's own unbreakable nature will be enough to heal the wounds eventually.

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter:<strong>

"…There's one thing I haven't predicted about living with Kurt again. We still have chemistry. The sexual tension between us seems to crackle sometimes…"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** _It may not be a good idea to read this chapter and the next one with children or coworkers looking over your shoulder. This is definitely NC-17. Just sayin' ;)_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 6<strong>

It's a pleasant evening in the middle of March and I get home late, exhausted. It's been the first sunny day in ages and I spent it all renegotiating credits and accounts conditions with the representatives of one of our biggest business clients. I feel like I don't have any brain cells left to think about anything.

A heavenly smell welcomes me as soon as I open the door to the apartment. _Food_. I didn't even have time to grab lunch today. Kurt comes out of the kitchen to say hello. He looks more like himself than I've seen in years in tight black jeans and a light grey sweater that clings to his lithe form.

"Hi, gorgeous."

He blushes adorably. "Oh come on."

"No, I mean it. You look amazing! Going back to Kurt Hummel haute couture?"

"Maybe. I don't know. It's spring, I felt the need to change something. Come on, wash up, dinner will be ready in five minutes. I made chili con carne."

My stomach growls in anticipation.

Dinner is delicious, just what I needed after a long day. I sigh happily over my emptied plate. Kurt hands me a bottle of ice-cold light beer, takes another for himself.

"After you texted about your tough day, I thought you might want to relax in the evening. Just an idea, but… when was the last time you watched the entire Harry Potter series? Maybe we could start tonight?"

Dinner, cold beer and relaxing movies. I think I love Kurt right now. As a friend, you know. Because I don't believe in love otherwise.

"Kurt, you're awesome, has anyone told you that? What do I have to do to make you stay with me forever?"

And he _smiles_.

And it's more of a success to me than the very profitable deal I negotiated today at work.

* * *

><p>One day two weeks later I come home earlier than usual to find Kurt reading in his room.<p>

"Come on, dress up. We're going out."

"Dress up? Where are we going?"

"I can't tell you, it's a surprise. But it's a formal dress type of place, so. Be ready in fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen minutes? Blaine, it's…"

"Just hurry, we don't have much time." He jumps to his closet. Twelve minutes later he emerges and I have a sudden urge to whistle. I'm going out with the most attractive guy in New York. Never mind that it's just a friend outing.

I whisper to the cab driver where we want to go and make Kurt keep his eyes closed. He does – all the way to Broadway, when I lead him into the Gershwin theatre and to our seats, until the lights go out and everyone goes quiet. When the first notes flow through the air, his eyes snap open. His mouth too.

"_Wicked_? You took me to see _Wicked_ again? Oh my god, Blaine!" He whispers fervently before he seems to get choked up. Or maybe just goes quiet to listen. Either way, he seems happy. He can't stop smiling all the way through the play. I have a hard time keeping my eyes on stage. I've just missed his smile so much.

Later we go to a fantastic Greek restaurant I discovered last year. The food is amazing and wine flows liberally. Kurt is flushed and excited, unable to stop talking about the play. I don't remember when I last saw him so giddy.

"Blaine, seriously, thank you! I haven't been on Broadway in years, I forgot how I loved it, can you believe it?" I can. That's why I brought him here. To remind him. "I feel like I'm on the best date ever, even though it's not a date."

I almost ask if Marcus never took him on such dates, but I don't want to ruin the mood. So I just laugh.

"I'm glad you like it. I don't date anymore, so it's great to have someone to do such things with."

The next evening I come home to Kurt belting _Defying gravity_ in the kitchen. I stand and listen, transfixed.

Once he finds his voice again, he never stops singing. He doesn't stop smiling again, either.

* * *

><p>There's one aspect of living with Kurt again I haven't predicted – we still have chemistry. The sexual tension between us seems to crackle sometimes. And while it was easy enough to suppress when we were in college, now that I've been sexually active for years, that I <em>know<em> what's it all about, how _good_ it is… Let's just say, it's much harder to get the thoughts and images out of my head. I should probably just go get laid, it's been almost six months since the last time after all. Otherwise it can become pretty awkward – I can't keep getting a hard on half the times Kurt enters the room, for god's sake! Sooner or later he'll notice and then what? Don't even get me started on those days he exits the bathroom without his shirt on. I just hope I don't talk in my sleep, because the dreams I keep having lately, almost every night… Yeah, about my best friend. Told you – awkward.

Friday evening I come home late. It's April and suddenly a third of the staff is sick, so I've had overtime every day this week. Once I crawl out of the shower, I'm ready to collapse. But I can't deny myself a while with Kurt and a cold beer in front of the TV. I don't even know what we're watching, I just sit on the couch, happy to keep my mind blank and decompress after this damn week. Before I know it, Kurt is naked and gorgeous over me, rocking into me gently, his face flushed and beautiful, his pupils blown wide, my name on his lips.

And then my own moan wakes me.

I'm still on the couch, the TV is off, the lights dimmed. I'm groggy and confused, the way you are sometimes after too short a nap, so it takes a while to understand what's going on. And when I do, my first thought is _Oh, so it's one of those times where you dream you're awake. Okay_. Because it has to be. Because there's no way it's real that Kurt is kneeling on the floor between my legs, stroking me slowly through the thin fabric of my pajama pants. Is there?

He smiles when he notices my eyes are open.

"You were saying my name," he says, as if that explained everything. He reaches to my waistband, brows rising in question. "Let me?" And dream or not, there's no way I'm able to deny him.

"Yes. _God, ye_s."

Seconds later, his mouth is on me. His lovely, hot lips are tight around my cock, sliding down, sucking, swallowing me whole. And oh, it's not a dream, no dream could have this intensity, _ever_. I'm awake and Kurt is giving me a blowjob. The thought alone adds another wave of lava hot pleasure coursing south through my body. I'm quickly losing all control over my mouth, my mind, everything. I'm pretty sure I'm babbling, keening, moaning Kurt's name – because this? This is the best fucking blowjob in my life. I thought Danny was good. But if he was, then Kurt is a master. A magician. I had no idea anything could be _that good_. I lose all awareness of time and space, there's only overwhelming pleasure. I think I black out for a moment when I finally fall over the edge. God, the intensity.

When I come to, Kurt is sitting on the couch beside me, cross-legged, lips red, eyes sparkling. Okay, it's my turn. My mouth is watering at the prospect. I've dreamed about this _so_ many times.

"Kurt, that was… oh my god. _Thank you_. Now, lie down for me."

He looks a little panicky all of a sudden. "Wait, why?"

"Um, because I want to return the favor?"

"You don't have to." His voice is half and octave higher now. It usually means he's nervous or scared. I stop immediately, curious.

"I know. But I really, _really_ want to. Unless you don't want me to?"

"No, I… just… okay." He lowers himself on the pile of pillows at the end of the couch and I kneel over him, reaching for the buttons of his jeans. His cock is straining the thick fabric and I can't open the buttoned fly fast enough. Finally it's done and I slide the pants and black briefs halfway down Kurt's thighs in one smooth motion. After a beat to think about access and restrictions, I ask,

"Can I take these off entirely?" He just nods, breathing fast, his eyes trained on my hands.

Once he's half naked, I can finally focus on exactly the parts I'm interested in most right now. We've been living together for a long time, but we've never actually seen each other completely without clothes, there was always at least underwear on. So this is the first time I can actually look at his cock. And it's just as gorgeous as the rest of him. I check, it fits my hand perfectly. I stroke it once, twice – Kurt mewls quietly, his hips bucking – then dip down to swirl my tongue around the head, gathering the drops of pre-cum already leaking there.

"Oh god, this is gonna be over embarrassingly fast." Kurt's voice is rough. I smile to myself. I'll make sure it isn't.

I go slow, licking, sucking, sliding up and down. Changing pace. Pausing to stroke Kurt's cock for a moment, kiss my way down to his balls, shower them with little kitten-licks. Enough to make him crazy, too little to let him come. God, he's delicious. His weight on my tongue, the length, the width – it's perfect, it's like he's been born to fit my mouth. And the sounds he makes… He's the most wonderfully responsive man I've been with, the most vocal. I've always loved Kurt's voice, ever since I first heard him sing during the Warblers' audition, but I've never thought what it would do to me heard like this. It goes right to my dick. Thirty seconds of the little sighs and moans, the breathless gasps and high keening, and I am hard as steel again. Minutes later, I'm ready to explode, just from that. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to listen to him without getting an instant erection after this. Damn. I moan deep in my throat and Kurt gasps.

"Fuck, Blaine, wait. I'm _that_ close."

I look up at him, lick the head slowly, teasingly, smile.

"Good. Then come."

I dive back down, no teasing now – sucking, humming, my hand sliding down to his balls, then further, to that little patch of skin behind, and it's over, Kurt's voice in last muffled shout, his cock pulsing on my tongue, spilling hot and plentiful down my throat. I swallow eagerly – god, he even tastes amazing – then withdraw slowly, lick my lips, wait for Kurt to come back down.

When he opens his eyes a few minutes later, his expression is so stunned I almost laugh. I mean, I've been told that I'm good at that, but come on, it's not like he never got sucked off before. Maybe Marcus was bad at oral sex?

"Hi."

"Hi." He's still breathless. "That was…"

"Good, I hope?"

"Mindblowing." Kurt's eyes are closing again.

"Okay. Bed. Sleep. Now." Short commands, that should work even with a blown mind.

"Uhm." He manages to get up and stumble to his room, giving me a visual of his shapely ass, and I swallow a groan. "'Night."

"Goodnight."

I go to bed and lie awake for a while. I can't believe what has just happened. I wonder how we'll look each other in the eyes in the morning. I wonder how much it will change between us. I wonder how I will ever be able to forget how amazing it felt, because there's no chance it's ever going to happen again.

And yet, against better judgment, I hope it will. This, and more.

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter:<strong>

…"God, you're beautiful…" I trace my fingertips lightly down Kurt's chest, the planes of his stomach…


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **_Sexy times ahead._

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 7<strong>

We don't talk about it in the morning. We smile at each other – the smile more intimate somehow (_That happens after you've had someone come in your mouth_, I can't help but reflect, then chastise myself, because certain parts of my anatomy are stirring to attention already). We eat breakfast in silence, then spend the rainy Saturday together, each busy with our own things. I'm surprised, but there's nothing awkward between us. It's as if last night didn't happen. I play the guitar a little and finally finish the song that's been eluding me for weeks. Kurt seems to be reorganizing his wardrobe and composing outfits. In the afternoon I find a box in the hallway filled with clothes, khaki cargo pants on top. Kurt notices me looking.

"I've been going through my closet. God, I have no idea what I was thinking when I bought all these. I'll take them to Goodwill on Monday."

"Great. That's just an opinion, but I think your old style fits you much better."

Kurt blushes a little. "I know."

* * *

><p>By the time evening rolls around I've almost convinced myself that last night really <em>was<em> just a dream. That is, until Kurt says, conversationally, "I think we should have sex," and I choke on a bit of apple.

After I come back from the brink of death by asphyxiation and stop coughing my lungs out, I ask weakly, certain I misheard him.

"What did you say?"

"I said, I think we should have sex," he answers calmly, as if he proposed to go the movies or try a new take-out place. In fact, it's _too calm_, which means he probably rehearsed what he's saying. He does that when he's nervous. "I thought about it all day and I believe it's reasonable. Last night was amazing, for me, I mean, but I had an impression you liked it too. We're obviously attracted to each other, we seem to fit well, we're both single and we live together, and honestly, sometimes you just need sex, so why go somewhere looking for it if we can just have each other? It's much safer and we're friends, so there wouldn't be any awkwardness."

To say that I'm surprised would be a serious understatement.

"Kurt, don't you think it would be awkward _because_ we are friends? Aren't you afraid it could ruin what we have?"

"Of course not. I'm not talking about a relationship, just sex. If we don't like it, we'll stop, no hard feelings. And if we do, we'll just be friends with added benefits."

"I'm not sure it's that easy."

"Oh come on. It's _sex_. It's not complicated. Unless you're not attracted to me? Because your pants say otherwise."

I look down, noticing that my yoga pants are tented in an obvious way, and put a pillow in my lap. I have a bad feeling about this, but it's hard to think clearly when Kurt is looking at me like that. And _pouting_.

"Blaaaaaine. Come on. I need sex. And you're sitting right here, so damn hot. And I've wanted you since college. No, wait, forget college, more like high school. And I never had the courage to just tell you. So now I do."

I groan. God, I've wanted him too. I _do_ want him still. There's no way I can refuse.

"Okay."

"Yes!" He jumps from the coach and moves toward his room.

"Hey, wait, you want to do it _now_? I think we need to talk about it first!"

"What's there to talk about?"

A lot. Everything. But at least…

"How about the technicalities? Like… do you want to top or bottom?"

He looks surprised, as if there was never a question about it.

"I always bottom."

"Always?"

"Always." Okay, some couples just have their chosen roles.

"And you never wanted to try the other way?"

He actually stops to consider it. "I guess I never really thought about it. It's just the way it was. I mean… are you okay with that?"

"Yes. I'm fine with both ways." For a moment, he looks surprised again. It's not like I'm saying anything extravagant, is it?

"Great. Now. Sex?"

* * *

><p>When I follow him to his bedroom, lit by a single small lamp, there's already lube and a box of condoms on the bedside table, and Kurt's quickly unbuttoning his shirt. I stop him.<p>

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"Undressing. You know, to have sex? What else do you want me to do?"

"Um, how about this?" I take his hand and pull him to me, stroke his cheek, then kiss him. He inhales sharply and stills for a moment, before diving into the kiss passionately. His lips are full, soft and minty. His tongue slides into my mouth to explore and I shiver. God, I want him. I slide my free hand to the back of his head, rake my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. All these years together and it's our first kiss. I can't recall just how many times I've thought about doing this – ever since the day we first met. The number would probably go into dozens, if not hundreds. And now here we are.

I want to savor this, each slow step, because this is _so _worth it. _Kurt_ is so worth it. And it's not a one-night thing with a stranger in an anonymous hotel room. It's connecting on a new level with a person I care about and who cares back. Kurt can say what he wants, but I _know_ it will do things to us, change us somehow. I just hope it will be for better and not worse.

I slide my lips down the column of his neck, kissing, sucking. I graze the milky skin with my teeth, careful not to bruise. His shirt is half-undone already, so I slide it off one shoulder to continue my journey, uninterrupted; biting where the neck meets the shoulder. I go back to tongue the inviting dip between clavicles, then down to the exposed nipple, to tease and lick it into a hardened bud. Kurt moans and whimpers above me, his fingers fervently tracing jumbled pathways along the skin of my back. I don't even remember his hands sliding under my shirt, there are so many stimuli at once, so many things I feel and want and do. My body is on fire under his touch and I can't wait to find more – more contact, more skin exposed, just _more_ to see and taste and worship.

So I make my way down his chest, button by button, kissing each newly exposed inch of skin until I'm on my knees and there are no buttons left, and I'm rudely interrupted in my explorations by a belt buckle. Still, I can't tear my eyes away from the newest discovery, the light dusting of soft hair leading in an inviting line from Kurt's bellybutton down, _down_… So I map the line with my tongue, travel along the borders of the waistband with wet, hungry kisses, suck on a hipbone just peeking from under the dark denim. Kurt's responses are crazily vocal, his hand fisted tightly in my hair.

Suddenly I just have to see him, to look at him, all wanton and aroused, so I kiss my way back up and reach to slide his shirt completely off. My hands shake slightly against his shoulders; I pause to catch his eye, pupils blown wide so that there's just a ring of greenish grey visible.

"Can I?"

"_Please_."

There's a rustle of cotton sliding to the floor and there he stands, glorious in this half-nudity, and I know that I'm staring, but I can't help it, I'm transfixed. I can't keep the awe out of my voice.

"God, you're beautiful…" I trace my fingertips lightly down Kurt's chest, the planes of his stomach. He gasps and reaches to unbutton my shirt hastily with deft fingers, losing patience halfway down to pull it over my head instead. A heartbeat later we're chest to chest, touching, kissing, exploring, every point of contact sending sparks along my neural paths. Quick breaths fill the room. I slide my hands down Kurt's back, along the valley of his spine, to the dimples on the small of his back, and still lower, lower over his jeans, until they stop on his ass.

I groan before pulling him into me, impossibly closer, our lips colliding in a hungry kiss, all tongues and teeth. And there he is, right against me, hot and hard, and we both gasp sharply and rut against each other for a while, seeking the perfect friction, until one of us remembers that we're not teenagers stealing desperate moments of privacy before parents come home. We have time, we have space, we have a bed and no reason to come in our pants if we can just get rid of them.

What follows is an undignified race to get naked as fast as humanly possible and fall on the bed, back into each other's embrace. Once there though, there's no rush anymore, time slows and we kiss sweetly, almost shyly, as if suddenly realizing what we're doing here, naked together for the first time. Our bodies touch, entangled, hot and wanting and just there. For a second I wonder if this is the moment when one of us decides to call it off, if maybe we _should_ call it off before anything more happens, but then Kurt rolls me on my back and I'm lost to his hot mouth and wandering hands for a long, long while.

When he finally comes back to my lips, pressing his hips against mine, it's too much. My senses are in overload; I need a bit of distance for a moment if I'm to be able to do what he wants from me. So I roll, keeping Kurt close, and he's on his back now, whining for the loss of contact as I withdraw and kneel back a feet away.

"Shh. I just want to look at you." And I do. Because I don't know, maybe this is the first and last time I have a chance to do this and if it is, I want this sight etched into my brain forever. "Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are? Your face, your body, your skin, your cock, fuck… I get hard just looking at you sometimes, fully clothed. And seeing you like that, naked and perfect, lying here… I want to fuck you so bad right now, feel you tight and hot around me, hear you make those _sounds_…" He whines deep in his throat, looking dazed, his cock jerking up, beads of moisture gathering at the tip."But I also want to just sit and look at you. Or touch and kiss every inch of you. Anything really."

I lean in and lick a hot line up his dick, kiss the tip gently.

"Will you turn for me?"

He does, without question, and I stare at his ass shamelessly. I want to worship it, to be honest. It's worth it. I stroke it gently, squeeze one perfectly shaped muscle.

"You have the most perfect ass I've ever seen." I spend a moment or two, or five, kissing it, biting a little, only to soothe the sting with little licks. I open his legs wider and trace the tip of my tongue from his balls to the small of his back, earning a shuddering moan. I part the cheeks to grant my mouth access, blow gently before diving down, just as Kurt turns his head to look.

"What are you do… _oh fuck, Blaa-ah-ah-aine_…" The rest of his words is lost in a symphony of moans, surprisingly low and raw, as he loses it, thrashing his head and bucking his hips wildly under my exploring tongue. Soon, he starts biting the pillow, the growing tension in his muscles indicating he's getting closer to the edge, and I stop, just my fingers skimming over his entrance lightly, there and back again, there and back. I feel like I'm going to explode if I'm not inside soon. Still, I have to make sure, even as I grab the lube and cover my fingers liberally.

"Do you still want to do this?"

Kurt is looking back at me, panting and sweaty, breathtaking as he lies like that, stretched out and exposed for me.

"Yes. _Yesyesyes_. And you don't have to do that. Just take me."

I don't understand. "What?"

"You don't have to prepare me, I'm used to going without."

My eyes widen. He must be kidding, right? I've tried bottoming without preparation, once. Danny and I were experimenting with rough sex that day. There's no way I'd do that to Kurt. What does he mean, he's _used _to it?

"No, Kurt, we're doing it properly. This is supposed to be about pleasure, not pain. Just let me do it my way."

He hesitates, but complies. As soon as my finger is against his entrance, the lightest of pressure, I can see him bite his lip and squeeze his eyes shut, and not in a good way. It's as if he's bracing himself for something unbearable. I feel my heart ache. What had that bastard been doing to him? He wants this though, now, so I'll just be so, so gentle…

I keep teasing with my fingertips, just touching, stroking, massaging, until I feel Kurt relax under me. Lying between his parted legs, I slowly slide one finger in while sucking at the soft flesh of his inner thigh. Pause, out, in again. A few more slides and he's pushing against my finger, whining high and breathless, enjoying it fully. I keep doing just this until he begs for more. I add the second finger, take my time finding that sweet spot inside and then just watch Kurt slowly coming undone while preparing him thoroughly, even more carefully than I usually do. By the time I finish with the third finger, he is thrashing his head left and right, fucking himself on my hand, begging for me to take him, beautifully responsive. I could watch him all night, but I'm so hard it hurts, so I reach for a condom, slowly sliding my fingers out. Kurt whines at the loss.

"Turn over. I want to see you."

I put a pillow under his hips, lift his knees up to his chest, then kiss him thoroughly before I even start pushing in. I go slow, mindful of every grimace, every tensing, but he's _so_ ready and soon I'm fully in and god, it feels amazing.

I'm making love to my best friend. _Wait, what?_ Scratch it, I'm _having sex_ with my best friend. That's all that is.

Once we start moving and establish the perfect rhythm and angle, there's just hot tightness around me, wet, sloppy kisses, sweaty bodies and mingling sounds of pleasure. Kurt's voice goes lower and rougher the closer to the edge he gets and the vibrations of it, the look on this angelic face, so completely wrecked with pleasure, are enough to bring me to the peak _right now_. But I bite my lip, hold back. Not until I'm sure he is satisfied. He's tense and panting already, shuddering, _just there_. I stroke my hand just once over his bobbing cock and whisper, my voice ragged.

"You're so fucking beautiful like that, god… Come on, come for me, baby." _Baby? Where did that come from?_ But it doesn't matter, because right that second Kurt _does_ come, arching his back, his voice doing something amazing, sliding from low growl up, up through the scale, finishing in a broken note so high I'm pretty sure I've never heard him sing it. It's the final push and I pulse with my orgasm, Kurt's name on my lips like a prayer. The last conscious thought I register is _Fuck, I love him_ and then it's just blinding pleasure.

* * *

><p>Once I've gotten myself back together enough to be able to look and think at the same time, I notice that Kurt is crying. <em>Oh no.<em>

"Kurt, oh my god, did I hurt you? Did I do something wrong? Please, talk to me!"

"No, no, this was perfect, _you_ were perfect. It's just… I never even..." He sobs in earnest now.

Condom disposed of, I hug him tightly, silently, as he cries on my chest. I don't know what's wrong, but we can talk in the morning, I know he's not ready to tell me yet. Now I just hold my best friend, my lover, as his shuddering breath evens out slowly and he falls asleep. I follow shortly after.

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter:<strong>

_Do not make me think of him_

_The way he touched your fragile skin_

_That haunts me every day_


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

_Do not make me think of him_

_The way he touched your fragile skin_

_That haunts me every day_

I wake up alone, early in the morning.

At first I think Kurt has gone to the bathroom, or maybe the kitchen, and I wait for him to come back, stretching languidly, sated and sleepy. The apartment is silent. I'm falling asleep again when it hits me. It's _too_ silent. I sit up quickly. Kurt's messenger bag is not on its usual hook by the door. There's no phone on the bedside table; no note either. I check the clock – 6:12. Not a time when either of us is normally awake. I get up and look around the apartment. Just as I thought, it's empty. Where did Kurt go?

I grab my phone and call him, but it goes straight to voice mail – he must have switched it off. I notice that my hands are shaking and try to calm myself, but it's hard. Kurt is running again, isn't he? He used to come to me whenever things got intense with Marcus, at least until we lost contact. I don't even know what he did later. Does he have someone else to go to? A safe place? And why would he feel a need to run from me in the first place? I text him, hoping he'll check the messages at some point.

6:37 – _Hey, where are you? Everything alright?_

No answer. There's no chance for sleep anymore. I try to distract myself, cleaning, cooking, baking, finding mindless chores that need to be done at some point, but worry is like a dark cloud over my head. Every now and then I try to call – always getting voice mail – or text.

8:28 – _Will you come back for breakfast? I'm baking cinnamon rolls._

10:02 – _I got so used to eating with you that I feel lonely now. Where are you?_

12:35 – _Please, just let me know if you're okay. I'm worried._

I _am_ worried, probably more than I should be in this situation. Kurt is an adult, he has money, doesn't work today, he has every right to just go anywhere and doesn't have to explain himself to me. He's not suicidal or depressed, as far as I know. He'll come back when he's ready. But remembering just how upset he was last night, I can't help the anxiety creeping up on me.

* * *

><p>The thought that assaulted me out of the blue last night keeps coming back, but I push it down every time.<p>

_Fuck, I love him_. No, I don't, those were hormones talking.

_I love him_. No. I don't believe in love.

_I love him_. Well, maybe as a friend, but definitely not romantically. I may have, once, but that was long ago.

_I love him_. Oh shut up.

I'm just worried about him as a friend. That's it. You always worry about your friends' wellbeing, right?

* * *

><p>I keep trying to contact him all day.<p>

14:50 – _Kurt, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry. Please don't run away from me._

16:13 – _I'm really worried. Please let me know you're fine._

17:09 – _Come on, come back. Whatever it is, we can just talk about it._

19:58 – _It's about the sex, isn't it? I knew I shouldn't have agreed._

21:27 – _Whatever I did, please forgive me. Or at least let's talk about it. We can make it right._

23:00 – _I'm so, so sorry. I thought with my dick and now you're hurt and if anything happens to you, I'll never forgive myself. Please come home. We can talk about it or forget it ever happened, whatever you want. Just come back, please._

01:47 – _Kurt, please…_

I fall asleep sometime after that last text, curled up in bed, still clutching my phone. I startle awake when I feel movement. In the soft yellow light of a bedside lamp I see my best friend, alive and unharmed, sitting cross-legged against the wall in his pajamas. I'm by him in a second, hugging him tightly, whispering _You're alright, you're back_. He hugs me too, so whatever it was that I did, it hopefully wasn't unforgivable. Finally we pull back and look at each other. The clock on the wall behind Kurt says it's almost 4 a.m.

"Blaine, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left like that, without a note or anything. I woke up before dawn and I just had to get out, I needed space. I never even thought you would worry. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, I'm just glad you are fine. You were so upset last night and I didn't know why or where you had gone, if you were safe…"

"I was in Central Park all day. Wandering, thinking. Then I sat in a café. Listen, about last night… You did _nothing _wrong, I promise, don't even think that. I need to talk about something though. Best friend kind of talk. Would you be okay with that?"

"Of course. Anything."

"Just… It may be uncomfortable. Or weird. Please don't judge me."

"You know I won't." I settle against the headboard, ready for a longer conversation, Kurt a foot away. I'm completely awake now. Job be damned, I'll call in sick in the morning – later in the morning, that is.

"And there's going to be a lot about Marcus there. Try not to spit fire?"

I laugh. "I'll try. No promises though."

He sighs. "Okay. Where to start? Last night… I cried last night because you made me _feel_ so much. In the best of ways, but it caused a realization I was completely unprepared for. It was like a lightning strike, a paradigm shift. I spent the day trying to figure things out, but I'm pretty sure it's going to hurt for a long time. And it changes so much that I haven't even wrapped my mind around it yet."

My confusion must show on my face.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" I shake my head. "Okay. In other words: one night with you and I realized that you were right about Marcus all along. He _was_ a selfish, egoistic, manipulative prick. He _did_ just use me. He _did_ try to destroy me, though I hope I'm tough enough to undo at least some of the damage. I should have broken up with him after a month. The whole relationship was a huge mistake.

"And the worst realization is that I could have easily avoided all of that and my life would have gone a completely different way. A better way; if I had a little more courage." He looks at me earnestly. "See, not long before I met him, I was trying to man up and ask _you_ out. Okay, _out_ in our case would be nothing new. I… I wanted to ask you if we could try to be… more. Than friends. I was thinking about it for weeks and every time I started the conversation, I just chickened out and turned it into something else."

"Wait, was it when you asked if I could teach you to play the guitar? Which you had no intention to learn at all?"

"Yeah, that and several other things."

"I remember. I wondered what got into you then."

Kurt averts his eyes, as if suddenly shy.

"You. You got into me. I couldn't get you out of my mind, I was going crazy from all the sexual frustration, and I had so many feelings; I got all fluttery when we talked, or touched. When you would go shirtless in the room on hot days, I fought with myself every minute not to jump you."

"I kinda wish you would have." I remember that summer vividly; the sticky heat, the nighttime walks around the campus to try and get some cooler air, talking for hours in the darkness; my restless fingers kept away from his sweaty skin with heroic efforts of will, desire like a constant itch, buzzing and bubbling in my veins.

"Yeah, me too. Especially after last night."

"Nah, last night you saw an effect of experience. Back when we lived together, I knew nothing about sex."

"But you still cared about me."

"Of course, I always did. And I always will." It's the most obvious thing in the world.

"And that's the point, you know? But I was afraid you would reject me and I would not only be humiliated, but lose you as a friend, which would be a thousand times worse. So I kept stalling and just went out alone more often, and that's how I met Marcus. I was so emotional already, it was easy for him to sweep me off my feet. And the rest is history."

I sigh.

"Now it's gonna make me think of what could have been, because I would have been in heaven if you actually asked me back then. I didn't know you were into me like that. But as much as I applaud your realization about Marcus, I still don't understand what last night had to do with it."

He looks uncomfortable for a moment, shifting his position on the bed until he's sitting with his knees hugged to his chest, chin resting atop. When he speaks again, it's quiet, hesitant.

"Okay, you know that Marcus was my first. I believed he loved me and wanted what was best for me. And maybe it was because he was older, much more experienced and so damn self assured, or maybe because he had this way of talking to me… but I believed what he told me without questioning. So when he told me, showed me… sexual stuff, I accepted it as the way things are, just like that. You know I've never really… _researched_ those things, so it's not like I had anything to relate to. And then there you came and did things that turned all my experience, views – everything, upside down."

"I don't understand. You _did_ have sex with Marcus, right? You said you always bottomed and you _wanted _to have sex, so…"

"Oh, I did. But after last night I finally understand why people are so obsessed with it. I never knew you can _feel_ so much more than just the physical pleasure of an orgasm. Desire, anticipation, thrill, joy, trust, tenderness... I could add more. And hundreds of sensations all along, not just at the end."

"But Kurt, I didn't do anything special or different or… I don't know. It was just normal. I mean, it was absolutely amazing, but pretty simple, no bells and whistles."

"Yes, I've noticed that for you it was absolutely natural. Well, for me… it wasn't."

I'm not sure what he means – was Marcus into some kind of kinky stuff? Is that it?

"Okay, explain it to me please."

"Blaine, you kissed me and touched me, and talked to me. You _looked_ at me and told me you liked what you saw. And you looked… god, so aroused and engaged in it that I couldn't _not_ believe you… You spent time exploring my body and letting me explore yours, and making me feel so, _so_ good with your hands, your mouth, your voice, your fucking _everything_. You made me crazy with the intensity of it all – I've never been loud during sex before, did you know that? And you _prepared_ me, just to make it easy and good _for me_. You made sure _I came_ first, for god's sake!"

Wait, does he mean…

"Oh my god, you cannot be saying what I think you are saying – Marcus never…?"

"No, I never _had_ any of that, Blaine!"

"So wait, what did you use to do then? I mean, you guys were together for over four years!"

"Four and a half. And all those years, from the very beginning, we _had sex_. Once, twice a month. And it was _nothing _like last night, Blaine. Last night I felt like you were _making love_ to me, not just having sex. Like you were _worshipping _my body."

"That's because I was. You have an amazing body, if you haven't noticed. And besides, I care about you. But come on, it's normal, it's what it _should_ be like!"

"Okay, forgive me, but I'll be blunt. You know what I thought was normal? I thought it was normal that I always had to be the one to bottom or give blowjobs. I was told that there are set roles in a relationship, and this was mine. Because I'm _effeminate_."

His words make me see red. It's lucky for Marcus that he lives in Paris now, because the urge to hurt him is becoming hard to suppress and I know his old address here in the city. But then Kurt continues, and it gets even worse.

"I thought it was normal that one of us would say something like _Let's have sex_, and there would be some touching through our pants and maybe some perfunctory kisses, lips only. Then we just undressed, I lay on my stomach, he put on the condom and lube and pushed into me without any preparation."

Oh dear god, just let me have five minutes with this fucking sadist in a closed room. That would be enough, really. Four and a half year of relationship and last night was the first time Kurt had sex without being in pain? My face must be a mask of horror, because he smiles sadly.

"Yeah. I got used to it. It gets better after the first minute or two. If I was lucky, I came before he did. But if I didn't, I just finished by myself later."

"Wait, and he didn't even give you a blowjob if he finished earlier? Or a hand job at least?"

"No. He was satisfied, that was the end for him. To be honest, I've never been on the receiving end in oral sex before Friday. He never _gave_ blowjobs, just like he would never, you know, finger me. Those were just things he _didn't do_, he considered them dirty and undignified. Well, he didn't say it that way, of course, he sold it as a completely common thing. He said that the so called preparation was a myth, that it didn't help at all, in fact it just prolonged the initial pain. Right. Now I know it was just another lie."

Oh wow… I want to reach out and touch him, comfort him somehow, soothe all the pain he ever had to endure, but I can feel he's guarded now, needs a bit of space after opening up like that, completely vulnerable. I still can't wrap my mind around what he's telling me.

"And it was always like that? You never thought something was wrong?"

"At the beginning there was more talking before, more kissing, undressing each other, it was all much slower and quite gentle, but generally the same. I cried after my first time, despite his being very slow and careful for once – I knew it could be painful, but this was beyond anything I imagined. He cried with me, said how much he hated to hurt me, how he would rather take the pain on himself… I ended up consoling _him_. And he promised it would get better with time, and well, it did, sort of, because I got used to it. You can get used to everything. I was never a great fan, but well, a man has needs, right? So I thought I wasn't very responsive or something, I only had pleasure from the orgasm, the rest was just means to achieve it."

Kurt looks me in the eyes now and I can feel some of the tension in his shoulders dissipating as he smiles.

"And then you came and made me feel like I stepped into one of my dreams about how my first time would feel like. Or into a gay romance where everything is beautiful and romantic and nothing hurts. I stopped believing it could be like that in real life long ago. And here you show me that _this_ is normal. So you can understand why it was an intense discovery for me."

Now I can. And I feel so mad I could strangle Marcus right now for ruining this for Kurt, and so sorry that it was all taken from him, the beauty and joy of discovering sex the way I had with Danny. And I'm so happy last night was like it was. I touch his hand carefully.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I wish I could have done something…"

"You did a lot though. You showed me that I lived a lie and that life can be so much better than what I had, so it's worth fighting for. I'm done moping after that bastard, from now on I'm only looking forward."

"Good."

"You know, I was thinking about it all day today, and now that I realized just how manipulative he was, I found a lot of things he talked me into this way. It wasn't just sex. He was constantly saying how he loved me and how amazing I am, how talented, but there was always a little _but_, some tiny thing to change, to think about. He was changing me bit by bit, you know?"

I nod and he laughs bitterly.

"Yeah, of course you do, you told me all along. He made me angry with my friends and family, even though I understood they were just worried about me. He made sure I stopped believing I could achieve anything. He had short temper, he would yell and throw things – not at me, he just had to break something – and then he would cry and beg me to forgive him, say he didn't deserve me, until I assured him that of course he did, that it was alright. I said it so many times that I actually believed it at some point. There was a lot of things like that, I constantly find new ones now. I can't believe I fell for it."

"He was good at it," I spit out with disgust.

"He was. Is it vain if I say he might have believed I was a threat to him, competition? Do you think he did all that because he was trying to make me feel like I couldn't succeed?"

"I've wondered about that all along."

"Well, there are all those little things that suggest just that. But whatever his reasons, now I have to deal with that somehow."

"Any way I can help, just tell me."

Kurt unwinds himself from his defensive position and stretches out beside me, leaning on his elbow.

"There's one." He looks at me regretfully. "You were right, you know. That sex can… complicate things. I didn't understand, because I looked at it just as physiology, mechanics. But all those feelings… it's a lot. It's too much for me right now. So as wonderful as last night was, I don't think we should do it again, at least not until I get myself back together and find out where and who I am now."

I feel a pang of regret, but it's not like I didn't expect this, so I smile anyway.

"Of course. But we're still friends?"

"Blaine, do you think I would tell all this to anyone but my best friend?"

"Oh, okay. Good then. And thank you. For trusting me and… and for those two nights. It was… special for me."

"Me too. Now you understand how much." He lays his head on the pillow, visibly exhausted.

There's silence for a moment before Kurt asks,

"Would you mind if I slept here with you tonight? I think I'm done with being alone for today."

I move to make room for him. "Hop in."

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter:<strong>

_I'm out of love but I can't forget the past_

_I'm out of words but I'm sure it'll never last_


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **_Some fluff for my birthday today ;) This story will get fluffier and fluffier from now on, with just a bit of angst there. Enjoy :)_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 9<p>

_I'm out of love but I can't forget the past_

_I'm out of words but I'm sure it'll never last_

It's as if this conversation unlocked something in Kurt. As days pass, he's becoming less sulky and more of his old self. He's always impeccably dressed again, his hair styled to perfection, his witty humor there's always a touch of melancholy in his eyes nowadays, instead of his old energy and sparkle – it saddens me, but it's better that the defeat that lived there earlier this year. I just hope that in time this too will disappear.

Thankfully, our short detour into sex didn't have detrimental effect on our friendship. The fact that we tried and were comfortable enough to talk about it honestly afterwards seems to have brought us even closer instead. It's as if we added another level of trust to our relationship. Sure, I still fantasize about Kurt sometimes – it's hard not to after seeing him naked, hearing him come, _tasting_ him. When he hits high notes, singing in the shower, I can't help but shiver with the memory of him coming apart under me, beautiful, responsive, for the shortest moment _mine_. But these are all just fantasies now – I'm perfectly fine with never touching him like that again. Nothing, absolutely _nothing_ is worth losing my best friend.

One Sunday morning I stumble out from my bedroom to find Kurt already fully dressed and caffeinated, sitting on the couch with a sketchbook and his old pencil case. I take my time showering and eating breakfast. When I join him in the living room, I'm already fully awake. He's drawing. Doodles of figures in colorful outfits crowd the page of the sketchbook. I can see that the large pad is already half-full.

"You're designing again! Kurt, it's wonderful!"

"Not really. Not yet at least. Just trying to get back in the groove. But… yeah, I woke up three hours ago with an urge to draw that I haven't felt in a long time, so it's probably a step in the right direction."

"Great! Are you thinking about going back into fashion then?" I can't contain my joy at seeing Kurt doing what he loves again, so I bounce a little in my seat.

He chuckles softly. "Blaine, you're like an overenthusiastic puppy sometimes, has anyone ever told you? I don't know what I'm going to do yet, I'm still trying to figure out what I want and how I can get it. We'll see. There's not much I can do in this field without a degree anyway."

"You can always get back to college for your final year."

"It's not that easy though, did you see how much, or rather how little I earn? Even living here with you and not paying rent, it would take a long time to save enough to go back to college. And I'll have to move out one day, which will make it even more impossible."

"Wait, what, why? You want to move out?"

"No, silly. I'm happy living here with you. But you'll want me out one day when you have a boyfriend and want to live with him."

I laugh, relieved. He scared me for a moment. "Not gonna happen. I told you, I'm done with dating and relationships. I'd rather live here with you, maybe hook up with someone every now and then, but that's it. I have the perfect plan. You'll go back into fashion and take the runways by storm, by thirty you'll have your own line of couture, and I'll be able to quit my banking job and go into music once I have money from the trust fund. And we will still live together and…" I break and try to cover sudden embarrassment with laughter. "Oops, overenthusiastic again. You may be right about the puppy thing."

Kurt's eyes are soft as he looks at me.

"Is that how you see our future?"

I blush. "Not really. Okay, sometimes. I was serious about the career paths. But yeah, I know the whole living together forever thing isn't gonna happen, because you'll find your knight in a shining armor one day and ride away into the sunset with him. But one can dream, right? I just really like living with you."

"Oh, I do too, believe me. And I wouldn't be too sure about that knight. Or the fashion career. Call me a pessimist, but it's much more probable that I'll just work somewhere, anywhere, maybe as a mechanic, just to be able to pay the bills. Nobody says you have to like your job, right? And I guess I _will_ date at some point, trying to find someone better that Marcus, which really shouldn't be that difficult, and one day I'll probably meet someone good enough to settle for. And I'll spend the rest of my life between my uninspiring job and moderately pleasant home. Oh _wow_. Now I'm depressed." He leans heavily against the back of the couch.

I grab his hand, not caring that there's a pencil there that insists on getting into close relationship with my wrist. I look into Kurt's eyes fiercely.

"No, Kurt. You won't settle. Sorry, but I won't let you give up like that. You can't just waste this kind of talent, throw it away. I know you will do anything to go back to doing what you love and what you're amazing at. Because the Kurt I know is nothing if not determined and would _never_ give up on his dreams. And you _will_ find the perfect man. You'll get married and organize a breathtaking wedding, and you'll have beautiful babies and a lovely house full of laughter and music. And I'll be your kids' favorite uncle."

Kurt sniffles, his eyes a little wet.

"Thank you, Blaine. It all sounds perfect, except for that part where you forgot to mention the love of your life and your children, but come on, you've seen how good I am at choosing men."

"So you'll keep looking until you find the right one. Because you deserve the best man there is, Kurt. You deserve someone who will care for you with all his heart, cherish you and tell you how beautiful and amazing you are. Who will value and respect you, and always appreciate just how lucky he is, having you in his life. Who will worship your body and understand your mind, and do what he can to make you happy every day. You deserve someone who will be your friend, your lover, your support…"

I trail off as realization hits me like a Mack truck. Thankfully, Kurt doesn't look at me, busy drying his eyes with a tissue. Because for a while, until I get my breath back, I must look like I had a vision.

In a way I did. I just described a man who would be perfect for Kurt. And the description fits _me_ to a T.

* * *

><p>I'm lying in my bed that night and my mind just won't shut up. As soon as the seed of my words hit the soil of my imagination, it started growing like crazy and I'm flooded with pictures of perfect dates and quiet evenings cuddling in front of a TV, goodnight kisses and making love on lazy Sunday mornings, white gold wedding bands and children's laughter. I can imagine every step of our way, I can picture us maturing and growing old together. With Kurt.<p>

Not that it means anything. I could imagine this with Danny, too, sort of. Maybe less vividly, but that's because I know Kurt almost as well as I know myself. Sometimes I think I know him even better. But the fact that I can imagine it so well that my heart aches for it doesn't mean anything other than that I… No, nonsense. I don't believe in love. He's just my closest friend.

_A friend you want to be with forever, make love to, marry and have children with_, says a traitorous little voice in my mind. _Do you know what it's called? L-O-V-E._

I don't believe in love.

_Don't you? You loved Danny. This was real. _

Yes, and look where it got me.

_Ha, but you loved him, you admitted so yourself._

Okay, so I don't believe in relationships. It doesn't change anything.

_Oh, it does. Because you love Kurt._

Fine.

It doesn't change anything _anyway_. I'll never, not even for a minute, let myself dream and hope again. Kurt will find his perfect man. Someone else who will feel about him like I do and whom he will love just as much. And our friendship will remain intact.

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter:<strong>

_I've been saving these last words for one last miracle_

_But now I'm not sure_

_I can't save you if you don't let me_

_You just get me like I've never been gotten before_

_Like I've never been gotten before_


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

_I've been saving these last words for one last miracle_

_But now I'm not sure_

_I can't save you if you don't let me_

_You just get me like I've never been gotten before_

_Like I've never been gotten before_

One day in early June I get home to find Kurt in the kitchen, sketchbook in front of him, as it so often is these days, but he's not drawing. Instead, he's staring at the phone in his hand, a lost look on his face. I feel a pang of fear.

"Kurt, what's wrong? Why are you so upset?"

"Oh, hi, you're home. No, I'm fine. It's just… It's my dad's birthday. He's turning 50. And I've realized he was 46 when I last spoke to him. I don't even know if he's alright, I mean, with his heart and all…"

"He's fine." I drop on the chair opposite and steal a gulp of Kurt's Diet Coke. Mmm, cold.

"Yeah, you're right, they would have called me if anything happened, no matter what, but…"

"Why don't you call him? I'd say it's a perfect day to break the silence. I'm sure your dad would consider it a wonderful birthday gift."

"I've been telling myself all day I can do it, but I just can't press the call button. What if he doesn't want to talk to me anymore? What if they all just crossed me out of their lives for good?"

He looks at me with vulnerable eyes of a scared child and it breaks my heart. He might have closed the chapter called Marcus for good now, and he may be healing, but there are wounds Marcus caused that still peek from under the bandages, gaping and infected.

"Oh Kurt, of course they didn't! They miss you!" I put all my conviction in the words, knowing for certain it's not just an empty assurance.

"How can you know?"

Uh-oh. Confession time. I take the glass of Coke again, just to occupy my anxious fingers.

"Because I talked to them?"

"What? When?"

"Last time when I was home, for Christmas."

"Oh." Kurt looks at me intensely now, hopeful. "Did you run into them somewhere?"

"Um. Not really. I…" I drink some of the cold drink again, trying to cover my uneasiness.

"Blaine?"

"I went to visit them. I always do when I'm in Ohio."

"You _what_?" I really don't know why he's _so_ surprised. I've known and loved his family for years.

"I first went when I was visiting my parents a few months after you… after we…"

"After I cut you out of my life."

"Yeah, that. I had no way of knowing if you're alright and I was worried, so I thought maybe they would know something, maybe you had contacted them. Obviously, they knew even less than I did. But we talked a little and then I went again the next time, and it became a tradition somehow. They miss you, Kurt. They're fine, but they really miss you."

There's something soft in his eyes when he looks at me, deep, unhidden affection with an undertone of regret.

"You were checking on me all this time?"

"I tried – I told you, I was worried about you. And I was checking on them too, in a way. To be able to tell you how they are if I get to talk to you again someday. And, well, because I care."

"And how are they?" He sounds choked up.

"Why don't you ask them yourself?" I ask softly, getting up and going to my bedroom. "And wish your dad happy birthday from me, too." I close the door behind me to give him privacy.

When I walk out half an hour later, Kurt's eyes are red, but he's smiling his happiest smile as he hugs me tightly and whispers _Thank you_ in my ear.

Five days later he flies to Ohio. When he comes back after a week, there's a spring in his step and sort of bubbliness in him that makes me happy.

* * *

><p>Kurt dives back into designing in a way that would be scary if I didn't recognize it from our college days. He barely sleeps, forgets to eat and stops filling sketchbook after sketchbook with drawings only when he has to go to work. I know he will slow down in a week or two, so I stay quiet, calmly bring him coffee and make sure he doesn't starve. Then one evening I come home to find him at the kitchen table drinking wine, the bottle already half-empty. He's staring at the wall with blank eyes.<p>

"Hi," I say carefully. "Are you celebrating something?"

"The death of my dreams."

Uh-oh. I settle across from him.

"What happened?"

"Remember that internship I started before I met Marcus?"

"Yes?"

"I went there today. Showed them my latest designs. They were enthusiastic, said they would take me back any minute."

"Kurt, that's wonderful!" I'm proud that he's come so far, that he's planning, searching, trying again. But I still don't see the reason for his miserable mood.

"Any minute, as soon as I'm back in college."

"Oh." Okay, that sort of explains it.

"They said my skills have clearly developed and they are _very_ interested, but no one will take me in if I don't have a degree or am not at least on my way to earning one."

"Well, say what you want, but I still think it's great news." He shoots me an annoyed glare and jumps up to pace the kitchen, gesticulating animatedly.

"Oh _puh-lease_, how can it possibly be great news? I can't afford to go back to college, Blaine! It's like giving a thirsty man in the desert a bottle of cold water that he has no way to open. He can just look at it, _so_ close, while dying of thirst."

"Come on, if he's determined enough, he'll find a way. And it's great news, because now you know that there's only one thing separating you from getting back where you belong. One stupid little barrier, Kurt, and you're back in the world of fashion design and on your way to the top."

"This stupid little barrier happens to be fucking huge, Blaine!" It's like he spends the last of his annoyance with that exclamation, because he's slumping against the fridge now, looking depressed.

"Okay, let's think. Your family won't be able to help you?"

"No. With Finn's wedding approaching they don't have a penny to spare. And I wouldn't dare to ask them anyway, when it was my own fault I didn't finish in the first place."

"Student's loan?"

"I don't qualify. I checked."

"I can lend you money."

"No." It's said with a finality that precludes discussion. I try anyway, of course.

"Why? You really should use any chance you have."

"Not like this. I already feel guilty – you took me in without a word after I'd hurt you and left you for two years. You let me live here, fed me, helped me, you support me every single day and now you want me to owe you even more? I feel like I'm using you."

"I don't feel used."

"You know what I mean. I have no idea when I will start earning anything even if I graduate, and I can't have a debt to you on my conscience for god knows how long. I already have to live with the fact that I've hurt you, I can't add any more to that pile. No, just no." Kurt sits back on the chair and pours more wine into his glass.

"Okay. So we'll figure out something else then."

"There isn't anything else." He drinks the wine in one go. Clearly, it's not about tasting it tonight.

"_Kurt_. We'll figure this out somehow. And now, I have an idea. We could both use some fun. Let's make it a date week, what do you think?"

"A date week?"

"Yes. Our _Wicked _night was amazing, I think we should do it again. Let's go on a date, as friends, every night this week. Anywhere we want. Movies, eating out, a concert or show, a bar, karaoke maybe, a club, a walk in a moonlight… Whatever we consider to be a great idea for a date. We could take turns deciding. We'll have all the fun of a date without the nerves, expectations, awkward silences, getting to know each other…"

Kurt's sullen face brightens a little.

"You know what? It's actually a great idea. But I want to go first. I have the perfect place in mind."

"Great! Tomorrow then."

* * *

><p>It's a huge success. We have <em>so<em> much fun! There are new restaurants we try, an open mic night at a cozy little bar, there's Broadway and an outdoor concert, sunset watching from a roof, even a club where we dance until we can barely move. Each of our little dates is spectacular – we have so much in common and know each other so well that there was never really any question about it. We come home late every evening for a week, laughing and talking happily, and finish each date with a chaste goodnight kiss – Kurt's idea from the first evening – before going into our own bedrooms. The only clouds that mar the fun are the moments when I catch myself longing for these dates to be real, not just pretend. But I push these thoughts away quickly enough. As the week comes to an end, we decide we need to do this at least once a week, and the idea of weekly date nights is born.

Tonight's not it, but I'm in a great mood anyway. Tomorrow I go to work for a half day, to sit in some stupid workshop, and then I have a week off. I'm going to spend it with music and Kurt, and it is going to be awesome. A full week without entering a bank!

I'm in the kitchen, preparing pasta and a salad. Wine is already breathing on the table and my Disney songs compilation is playing in the background. Kurt should be home in half an hour. Maybe we could decide something for tomorrow's date night. I'm dancing around the kitchen, singing along with the music.

_Life is a road and I want to keep going_

_Love is a river I wanna keep flowing_

_Life is a road now and forever_

_Wonderful journey_

_I'll be there when the world stops turning_

_I'll be there when the storm is through_

_In the end I wanna be standing_

_At the beginning with you_

_I knew there was somebody somewhere_

_Like me alone in the dark_

_Now I know my dream will live on_

_I've been waiting so long_

_Nothing's gonna tear us apart_

Still singing and grinning, I turn to take plates out of the cupboard and jump a little in surprise. Kurt is leaning against the doorframe with his hand pressed against his mouth and his eyes wide, as if something has scared him.

"Kurt! You're early. The dinner won't be ready for another fifteen minutes. Are you alright? Did something happen?"

He seems to gather himself together and smiles easily. "No, nothing, I just remembered something. I'll go change and wash up, okay?"

"Sure."

Kurt is quiet as we eat, but I'm enthusiastic enough for the both of us. He keeps looking at me strangely. Maybe I'm being too much of a puppy again. I bring up tomorrow's night and we decide to plan the evening when I come home around two.

As I lie in bed later that night, for a moment I think that I hear sobbing on the other side of the wall. But I must be mistaken. It's quiet after that. And why would Kurt cry anyway?

* * *

><p>In the morning, as I'm about to leave, he hugs me tightly, longer than usual, and kisses my cheek.<p>

"What was that for?"

"Just… everything."

I laugh and go to work, in high spirits.

I come home two hours earlier than I thought I would, almost skipping with excitement. The apartment is empty – Kurt doesn't work today, so he must have gone out for a while, maybe to run some quick errand. But as I look around, I notice that something seems wrong. I can't see any of Kurt's things anywhere – his sketchbooks, the book he left on the table yesterday, his jacket on the hook by the door; they're all gone. Chills are running down my back as I peer into the bathroom. Only my things are left. With my heart in my throat I open the door to Kurt's room. Except it's no longer his room. It's just my guest bedroom. There's no sign of my friend left but a single sheet of paper on the bed, folded in two. I pick it up with trembling fingers.

* * *

><p><strong>End notes: <strong>_Dum dum dum… __Yes, I know. I'm evil. Please don't throw eggs. I'll do my best to update tomorrow, I promise._

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter:<strong>

_"Blaine,_

_Thank you so much for everything you've done for me. I will never be able to express how grateful I am. I'm sorry for leaving like that, but I'm too weak to do it the proper way..."_


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

_So nice to see your face again_

_But tell me will this ever end_

_Don't disappear_

The letter is short and quite different from Kurt's usual beautifully penned notes, like it was scrawled in a hurry. It reads:

_Blaine,_

_Thank you so much for everything you've done for me. I will never be able to express how grateful I am. I'm sorry for leaving like this, but I'm too weak to do it the proper way._

_Yesterday I realized someth - NO_

_If I stayed, it would be impossible to keep - NO_

_I know you don't f - NO_

_Oh crap. I love you, okay? I still love you, even after all these years. _

_There. It's out. _

_So I have to go, because I can't take another heartbreak just yet. And I don't want to force you to deal with this. I promise I'll call you in a week or so, when you have time to digest all of this and I'm settled back at home, but until then, my phone will be switched off, so please don't try to contact me. I'm not ready to talk about it yet._

_I don't have time to rewrite this letter properly now and find a vague half-truth to cover my reasons instead, so maybe that's the way it's meant to be, maybe I'm just meant to tell you. I have to run now, the cab is waiting._

_Be well. I love you,_

_K._

I freeze just for a second, the note falling from my numb fingers, before an autopilot kicks in and I run to my computer, to search frantically for flights to Columbus. There's only one that Kurt would have considered at this hour and if I'm _really _lucky, I'll be able to get to the airport in time.

After that it's all blurred, a slideshow of pictures against a maelstrom of emotions. Calling for the cab. Pacing incessantly before it's here, every single one of those seven minutes feeling like eternity. The phone pressed against my ear, nothing but voice mail there. A twenty slipped to the driver to make him forget about speed limits and just _hurry, please, I need to get there in time_. The city congested like a child with a bad cold. Loud music blaring from the radio. Every forced stop feeling like a prison sentence. Almost there. Bare minutes to spare.

I pay and sprint inside – _Columbus_, yes, it's there, it takes off in 4 minutes… now what? I hadn't thought this far ahead in my panic. They won't let me inside, even if I tried to buy a ticket. They won't hold the plane because I need to talk to Kurt. I can't even throw myself in front of it to stop it. I consider telling the security there's a bomb there, but I need to talk to Kurt, not spend the next 24 hours interrogated as a potential terrorist, so no. All I can do is watch helplessly as _Columbus_ disappears from the Departures timetable and try not to choke on suppressed sobs, not to let the sting in my eyes turn to tears. I try to check if Kurt really was on that plane, but they won't tell me anything, of course.

The ride back is slower. I sit in the back of the cab quiet, mournful, thinking about chances untaken, feelings unrevealed, the future that could have been. The funny thing is, I realize, that I wouldn't know what to tell Kurt if I got to him before he boarded that plane. _Please don't go_, obviously, but then what? I've accepted that I love him, I've lived with this realization for a while now, but there's a long way to go between this and beginning a relationship when I'm all too aware how it could end. Especially _this_ relationship, where the stakes are even higher than a broken heart. What could I offer him, really? Maybe it's all for the best. Maybe he'll find someone better and be happy. Maybe I'll get used to being alone again.

But deep down I know I'm deluding myself. Kurt won't be happy in Ohio – without New York and the chance to do what he loves; with its painfully limited population of potential love interests and ever present homophobia. And me… I already feel brokenhearted. Again. This wasn't supposed to happen, damn it! I was supposed to be safe so long as I stayed clear of relationships. I struggle not to cry, but it's a lost battle.

* * *

><p><em>I've been saving these last words for one last miracle<em>

_But now I'm not sure_

_And I can't save you if you don't let me_

_You just get me like I've never been gotten before_

_Like I've never been gotten before_

When I get home, I just want to go get the whiskey and drink until I burn the images of what could have been from my brain. It will take a lot of alcohol, but I don't care. I have a week off and a well stuffed liquor cabinet. And if it's not enough, there are stores that make home deliveries.

Except when I step through the door, the first thing I see is a huge suitcase. And a beautiful man sitting on top of it. I close the door behind me and stand there, staring. Kurt looks at me once, then back at the floor.

"I hoped I'd be back before you came and read that note."

I manage to get my voice out, but it's rough and quiet. "Would you have ever told me then?"

"Yes. But I'd rather tell you in person. That's why I came back. I was just going to pay for the ticket when I realized I couldn't do it, I couldn't leave like this. I'd promised myself I wouldn't run anymore, and definitely not from you. And I owe you honesty. You deserve more than a hasty note, you deserve to hear it from me and have a chance to react, and say a proper goodbye. So…" He looks up at me, his eyes determined, and I can see how much it is costing him, and my heart races. "I love you, Blaine. I've loved you since high school and I don't think I've ever really stopped. Now, don't feel like you need to be sorry for me or take pity. I understand. I just wanted you to hear it from me before I go."

It's only fair that I tell him. Even though there will be no happy ending, he deserves to know too.

"Please don't go. I love you too."

The shock on his face tells me I've been hiding it well.

"You… you do? But you said…"

"I know. I said I don't believe in love. But I've realized that whether or not I believe in it, it's there. I love you, I can't help it."

The smile that was beginning to form on his lips disappears. "So you love me, but you don't want to."

"That's not it. I love you, but I still don't believe in relationships. They are unpredictable, risky, they leave you vulnerable and when they break, so does your heart. I can't, I just…"

Kurt's voice is soft, quiet. "Blaine, every relationship is a risk and nothing in life is predictable, but the only way not to risk anything is not to live at all. Just exist, play it safe and wait for death. And I refuse to live like that."

"Okay, but this? Us? This would be a _huge_ risk. There's just too much to lose."

"You know what? The more there is to gain, the greater the risk. And I agree that we'd be risking a lot here, but I'm not afraid. Because it's us. Because we both care so much. And I don't believe we'd let anything defeat us, together. Do you want to know how I realized that I still love you?"

"Tell me."

He smiles at the picture in his head.

"Yesterday, when I came home early, I stood there for a while, watching you, busy in the kitchen, smiling, singing along with that song. And as I listened, I suddenly saw you in five years, doing the same, but with a wedding band on your hand. And I saw myself, coming in and kissing you hello, and then us having dinner to celebrate your first record."

Tears blind me. I want this _so much_. But…

Kurt continues.

"And then I saw us there in ten years, maybe in a different kitchen, preparing dinner together, with a kid playing on the floor nearby and another sleeping in a crib in the next room. I saw you at my fashion shows and me at your concerts. I saw children growing up and starting their own families. I saw Christmases and birthdays, family trips and lazy Sunday mornings. I saw it all in a blink and I felt calmer than I ever had before. It just felt right. It felt perfect." He looks so peaceful now, so certain. "And I realized that this is what I want, that nothing else will ever be enough. And it scared me more than anything, because I was sure I could never have that. But now that I know you love me too, I will fight for this. There's _nothing_ in the world I want more than that."

"Kurt…"

He gets up and stands in front of me now, cupping my face in his warm hands and looking me earnestly in the eyes.

"Blaine, I _swear_ I won't break your heart. I would never knowingly hurt you. I promise I will love you 'till the day I die. No matter what happens, no matter if I succeed in fashion and you in music, no matter where we live and what we do, I want this with you. No one but you. I know you're scared, but _please_. Take this risk with me."

My eyes well up, the images that I fought for so long running in a slideshow in my mind, and there's only one possible answer. Yes, I'm scared. I'm terrified. But Kurt is right – I can't always play it safe. We both want the same things. We love each other. We know each other enough to be certain. I close the distance between our lips, as if signing the deal.

"I love you."

* * *

><p><strong>In the next chapter:<strong>

"…_I'm not sure how much time has passed before Kurt pulls away from me, breathless and flushed. But somewhere in this time my shirt got unbuttoned, Kurt got a small hickey on his collarbone and both our pants became uncomfortably tight…"_


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

I'm not sure how much time has passed before Kurt pulls away from me, breathless and flushed. Somehow though, my shirt is unbuttoned, Kurt has a small hickey on his collarbone and both of our pants are uncomfortably tight. He looks at me, his pupils blown wide; I could watch him forever, he's absolutely gorgeous.

Wait, I _can_ watch him forever. I grin broadly and he giggles. Giggles! Just a while ago I was sure I lost him and now he's _giggling_ in my arms, thoroughly kissed and all _mine_.

"Not that I'm complaining, but maybe we could move to a more comfortable location?"

It's only when he says it that I realize we're still standing in the hallway and my legs feel stiff. We must have spent quite a while here, lost in each other.

"Sure. Whatever you want."

"Whatever? Really?" His smile turns mischievous.

"Really. Did you have something in mind?"

He blushes adorably. "Maybe. Bedroom?"

I pretend to gasp in shock.

"Mr. Hummel! Such a forward invitation so early in the relationship?"

"Oh well, apparently you make me easy. Unless you don't want to, of course?" Kurt's smiling, but I can see a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, so I just take his hand and pull him into the bedroom. After kissing him some more against the wall, I walk him backwards to the bed, take a moment to take off my shoes and his boots and kiss my way up his leg, from ankle to knee. I ache to continue, but I'm curious about that thing Kurt has in mind, so I force myself to keep my lips off him for a moment and settle on the bed beside him.

"So. About that something."

Kurt seems a little shy now, fidgeting with my fingers.

"There's this… thing I've always wanted to do. It's a kind of fantasy really. I've imagined that when I am with a man for the first time, I'll get to spend however long I want getting to know his body – learning every inch of skin, every curve and dip and muscle, just touching and kissing, getting used to it, watching his reactions. Just thinking about it was often enough to…"

"To get off on?"

"Yes." He's blushing and I nod in understanding – I had this with Danny, time to learn and get used to intimacy. It was an important lesson that helped me become sensitive to his needs and my own. Kurt continues. "And I never had that kind of chance, I went from first kisses to sex almost instantly."

"Do you want to try it now?" I raise his hand to my lips and kiss the warm center of the palm, teasing the smooth skin with my tongue as I move towards his wrist.

"Could I?" His face is hopeful, his voice already getting breathy. I let go of his hand and stroke his face gently instead.

"Do you even need to ask? Of course you can. But I'm all sweaty and I feel gross after running around in the heat. How about we take a shower together and then you can do whatever you want with me?"

"I think I like that idea." Oh how I love the way he grins happily.

"I'll help you with your clothes then."

Before he can react, I move to straddle his lap and our hips press together. Kurt's breath hitches. Kissing the soft skin under his left ear and sucking on it a little, I begin to unbutton his shirt. I take my time mapping all the sensitive spots on his neck and soon he's shirtless and reduced to a whimpering mess of want arching under me. I pause to look at him, so beautiful like this, which seems to break the spell.

"Okay. Okay. Enough or we'll never get to the shower. Let me undress _you_ now." Kurt's breathless and his eyes sparkle.

"Be my guest."

He slides the already unbuttoned shirt off my shoulders, then looks me over reverently, moving his fingertips down my chest.

"Gorgeous," he whispers, and his hand reaches to the fly of my jeans.

All of a sudden, a shot of panic paralyzes me. I feel exposed, and not just physically; my emotions are out in the open, I'm defenseless, vulnerable. In spite of my mind screaming _danger_, I'm letting someone in, into the deepest levels of my heart. What if I'm doing it again, the same thing I did with Danny – hope for something that won't happen, interpret Kurt's words the way I want to hear them? I can't go through this again, I can't afford another misunderstanding. I reach and still the hand unbuttoning my pants.

"Wait, wait. I just need to make sure we're on the same page here."

"Okay." Kurt looks at me questioningly.

"When I say that I love you, I'm absolutely certain I do, I've known it for some time now and I have no doubts about it. And I mean that I _know_ you, Kurt, and I _want_ you just the way you are. I want now, I want to go on dates with you and make love to you, be with you every day and make you happy, but I also want future. I already _know _that I want to marry you one day and raise children with you, and grow old by your side. I want forever – _whatever happens_, good or bad. Are you _sure_ you want the same?" I look him in the eyes earnestly, anxiously – _so much_ depends on his answer! – but he doesn't hesitate even for a second.

"I've never been as sure about anything in my life."

"So we're really doing this? From now on… just us?" I realize I'm squeezing his hands too hard, so I loosen my grip.

"Just us. Together."

And that's enough. I trust Kurt; I'd trust him with my life and now I'm trusting him with my heart.

We finish undressing and then kiss our way through the shower, washing each other, our hands and bodies slick and so close, and Kurt whispers it's the most intimate thing he's ever done with a man. The closeness and the delicious slide of body on body lead to some perfect friction, our hips fitting together _just right_, and soon we're both gasping and desperate for more and oh, right there, yes, _yesyesyesss_, Kurt's voice reverberating against the tiles, and then we have to wash again, but neither of us minds.

Our need sated for the moment, we settle on my _ – our now_, I can't help but say in awe – bed and I let Kurt learn and discover my body, cover every inch of it with his hands and mouth and tongue, touching, kissing, making me shiver and moan and arch under him until I can't stand it any longer and with a growl, flip him over to put my mouth on him at last. I suck him off, reveling in his taste and smell, his weight on my tongue and his voice curling softly around my name, and I'm rutting desperately against the sheets until we both come, almost in sync. All energy spent, we cling to each other, naked, unwilling to separate even for a minute as we fall asleep, breathing each other in.

When I wake up, it's dark outside, but Kurt is there, looking at me with eyes full of light and happiness. I love him so much it hurts, in the best of ways. We're both hungry, so we get up and rifle through the freezer for something quick, then return to bed to keep kissing, touching and claiming each other, still unable to get enough. And then there's a moment when Kurt stills in my arms, looks up at me all serious and I know this is important, what he wants to say.

"I want to make love _to you_. Will you let me?"

It takes me two seconds to understand what he asks for, but when I do, I shiver with anticipation.

"Yes. Yes, _please_, I'm all yours."

He is gentle and oh so careful, a little bit scared as he prepares me, watching with amazed eyes as I come undone under his fingers. I've done this many times before, but the fact that this is Kurt's hand, Kurt's cock – the man's who's just promised me _forever_, my future husband's – it makes it so much more. And it's his first time doing it, which makes it even more special, sacred. No one has ever seen him like this, biting his lip in concentration and trying with all his might to keep it together as he sinks into me, astounded with _hot _and _tight_ and _oh my god, Blaine_. He's never been connected like this with anyone, this is ours and ours alone. And it's not just a connection of bodies. It feels like a communion of souls, as cheesy as that sounds. It's like we complement each other entirely now, as if two last puzzle pieces in the big picture of us finally clicked together, completing the long process of assembling it.

We move together slowly, gently, eyes open and locked on each other, lips meeting in sweet kisses, and this time, the first time as _us_, it's not about reaching completion, not about finding the perfect rhythm and depth and angle, but about just staying like that, completely intertwined and joined, as long as we can. We will have time to learn each other. We have forever for that.

I don't know how long it takes before Kurt's movements become more erratic, sharper, and I adjust my hips a little, whisper "Touch me" and let myself flow on the wave of bliss between his cock brushing _just there_ and his hand stroking me, until I moan his name and come, pulsing around him. Kurt's voice breaks before I have a chance to ride down the wave entirely and he comes, too, burying his face in my neck.

When our breathing slows down, he slips out of me and throws the condom in the small trashcan by the bed. I get up for a minute, chased by his whining _Blaaaaaine, come back!_, and return with a warm washcloth to clean us up. Once we're cuddled back together under the comforter, Kurt sighs dreamily.

"I can't believe I've never tried that before."

"So what, you'll want to top all the time now?" I smile knowingly.

"Actually, no. I like both. With you, I like everything we do. How often do you…"

"What, have sex? It depends. Lately maybe five, six times a year. But with Danny, we used to do something sexual almost every day. But I don't expect that from you, Kurt!" I add quickly. "We will do whatever feels right to both of us and only when we both want it, okay?"

"No, I kind of hoped it would be often," he smiles. "So, _so_ often."

* * *

><p>The letter comes two weeks later. I give it to Kurt after dinner, already suspecting what it is. He tears the envelope open, scans the single sheet of paper inside and I can see his eyes getting wider and wider. He reads it through again, slowly this time, then looks at me.<p>

"Blaine, do you know anything about it?"

I feign ignorance.

"What is it?"

"NYU confirms my admission for the senior year and notifies that all costs have already been covered."

"Oh, that."

His eyes flash dangerously, but I just keep my calm, drinking my coffee.

"What do you mean, 'Oh, that'? We talked about this, Blaine! I don't want you to lend me money!"

"I know. And I don't remember lending you any lately."

"So what is this?"

"I paid for your last year of college." I shrug as if it was obvious. To be honest, I'm having fun, but I can't show it to him, of course.

"You _what_?"

"You heard me."

"But you _can't do that_! You'll tell me now that it's a present and that's your decision to make, won't you? But it's too much, Blaine!" He paces the kitchen now, gesticulating wildly.

"It's not a present. It's an investment." I explain calmly.

"What?"

"The way I see it, I've invested in our future. We have a much bigger chance at leading a happy life if you are at a job that you love. You'll be happier, which means our relationship will be better for years to come. _And_ don't forget that I want to go into music in five years. I haven't deluded myself into thinking I'll get rich as a musician, and certainly not at first. So at least one of us should be able to support our family, and with your talent and passion, I'm sure in five years you will."

"Oh." Kurt stops pacing and I can see he's tearing up, understanding in his eyes. Before I know it, I'm enveloped in a tight, sniffling embrace. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I'll make you proud of me."

I hug him tight.

"I'm _already_ proud of you."

And I am. Of him, of us. Look how far we've come in just half a year since the day I found Kurt sitting in the snow on my doorstep. It's been a healing journey, for both of us. But this is just the beginning. Our lives lie before us now, ready to be embraced and explored and filled with happiness and love. There will be problems of course, tough times and pitfalls, there always are somewhere along the way, but we'll survive. Together.

**THE END**

* * *

><p><strong>End notes:<strong>_This is the end of this story. Thank you for reading along and reviewing – you're all amazing!_

_My awesome beta – __**leangrypeanut **__(go read her stories if you haven't already – they're absolutely BEAUTIFUL) is tempting me to write something more in this 'verse; either a fluffy and sexy one-shot or two, or a fluffy and sexy series of future moments in their lives. I feel inspired, but I'm not sure if it's a good idea – what do you think? Would you like to read more? If so, what would you like to see? Feel free to tell me what you think about it in a review or PM, you can even prompt me if you have a specific thing in mind – who knows, maybe I'll make something of it. _

_If I write anything more for this 'verse, I'll add an announcement and a teaser as an additional chapter of THIS story, so subscribe to the story alert for _Gotten_ if you'd like to be informed about any developments._

_As for other things I'm working on – I'm publishing a sexy/angsty one-shot as soon as it's beta-ed, maybe even by the end of the week, and next week the first chapter of _Breathe_ 'verse threequel should be up. It comes after _With You, I Can Breathe _and _Learning To Breathe Again _and describes our boys' road to intimacy with all the milestones and firsts – yes, it will be a sexy/fluffy series of one-shots with a little dash of hurt/comfort._

_Okay, enough of the updates :D Thank you for sticking with me, I hope you had fun! _


	13. Sequel announcement

**Author: ** **anxioussquirrel**  
><strong>Genre:<strong> mostly fluff, with sexy times and a bit of angst here and there  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17 for the whole series  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Glee or its characters.  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> ~4000 this chapter

**Summary:** The long-awaited sequel to my story _Gotten_. A series of snapshots from Kurt and Blaine's life together over the years.

**Author's notes: **_This is a sequel, so if you haven't read _Gotten_, go read it first._

_I'm sorry I made you all wait so long for the sequel – what can I say… it was plot bunny season. But now the journey is starting._

_Let's discuss the plan: this is a WIP, which is unusual for me, but there's a reason: this won't really be a continuous story, but a series of one-shots, kind of snapshots from important moments of Kurt and Blaine's life together. And because of that, I'll only be posting once a week, always on Thursdays. If you know me, you know that I deliver what I promise :) The series has a potential to be long – around 20 installments, maybe? We shall see._

_The general rating is NC-17, but it may vary from chapter to chapter. The genre might change too, although most of them will be quite fluffy. Like _Gotten_, it's written in 1__st__ person, from Blaine's POV._

_Okay, enough talking. Let's start._

* * *

><p><strong>1. MEET THE PARENTS<strong>

I know I shouldn't be anxious. There's nothing to be anxious about, no reason to feel like I do before a very important exam. But I can't help it; it _is_ a very important exam, even if there are no teachers or grades, or required material, and I've graduated a long time ago.

Kurt looks at me with amused eyes every time I start to fidget in my seat on the plane, soothing again and again.

"Blaine, relax. They will love you, they already do, you know that. They'll be happy to see you as my boyfriend."

Right. It's easy for him to say. He's not the one being introduced as a new boyfriend to his family; not today, anyway. And they have no idea, either – Kurt's kept our relationship to himself for the last month, choosing to tell them in person; they don't even know Kurt isn't coming alone. I've supported it, but right now I'm not so sure it was such a good thing. At least if he told them on the phone, they would have time to get used to the idea.

My hands are shaking a little as we sit in the bus terminal in Columbus, waiting for our connection to Lima. Kurt has just decided it's time to let his family know he's bringing company, and as he chooses the number in his phone, I feel like I'm going to puke. It's stupid, I know; I'm not fifteen, for heaven's sake. But I can't help it – Kurt is my future, I can't screw this up; this week has to be perfect. What if I'm not what – or rather, who – they want for Kurt? What if they see me as fit to be his best friend, but not his boyfriend, and his future husband? What if they don't want me to be part of their family? What if - ?

Kurt's voice shakes me out of the spiral of anxiety I'm falling into again.

"Dad, hi! I'm in Columbus, the bus will be here any minute. Or should I say, we're in Columbus – I'm bringing my boyfriend with me, I hope that's okay?"

I can just barely hear Burt's voice; I can't understand the words, but he doesn't sound happy. My stomach clenches, but Kurt doesn't look worried. In fact, he grins.

"No dad, it's not Marcus. I promise, it's someone new. I'm sure you'll love him."

The murmur in the speaker doesn't sound convinced, and Kurt winces a little.

"Yes, I remember I said so about Marcus too. I know. But this, he… he's different. You'll see." A short break, then. "No, good different, Dad. Really. Trust me. Okay, here's our bus. See you soon!"

We take our bags and we're on our way.

…

**Continued in Gotten, the sequel: for life**


End file.
